


Animorphs: New War - #55 The Interrogation

by Adam2810



Series: Animorphs: New War [1]
Category: Animorphs - Katherine A. Applegate
Genre: Aliens, Andalites, Dubious Morality, Gen, Kelbrids, Moral Dilemmas, Morality, Torture, War, Yeerks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-04
Updated: 2019-07-04
Packaged: 2020-06-09 15:15:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 21
Words: 27,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19478557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adam2810/pseuds/Adam2810
Summary: The Animorphs have landed back on Earth. They have no memory of what happened after the decision was made to ram the Blade Ship, but whoever dropped them back home left them with a tuft of Aximili's hair.With no knowledge of what they're dealing with, and with The One casting its shadow, the Animorphs can only think of one person who may know something about the mysterious new foe, and he's currently locked away in a Kansas prison...





	1. Chapter 1

**Prologue**

As if it were an incomplete puzzle, everything seemed so clear and without reasonable doubt, but he couldn’t help but consider that even the smallest missing piece would turn the entire image upon its head and cause every concept woven within to crumble into dust. He paced the room, scraping uncertain hooves across a familiar patch of crushed grass, contemplating every piece of detail that he had; doing what he could to imagine those missing pieces like a mathematician sculpting a lifetime’s work on a messy chalkboard with the most tentative of solutions.

<War Commander,> Spoke _Ammarumor_ Horvallack. <It’s dangerous. I caution you that the Andal council may well see this as a threat to not only the alliance in question, but all others. You threaten the integrity and loyalty of our people. So it would seem to anybody outside of the military bubble.>

War Commander Torceran-Ehlar-Alaxalim stopped his pacing for the moment and looked down to the _Ammarumor_ , his intimidating figure a striking contrast to the fragile-bodied politician. <Integrity? Loyalty? The council of Andal, and indeed the Cross-Galactic Council, will understand that what I plan is in the best interest of our own, first and foremost. Not only that, but our enemies will not stop at us. The savages will pose a threat to any race, whether governed by the Cross-Galactic Council or not. You cannot cure a deadly plague with a weak antidote. You fight the merciless without mercy.>

The _Ammarumor_ sighed, knowing that Torceran’s stubbornness would not be defeated on this occasion. He spoke into the holographic computer system before him, the delicately worded plan destined to be stored away for only the eyes of the knowing.

<War Commander Torceran-Ehlar-Alaxalim, you will sign your name to this document?>

He had begun pacing again. Cold and stubborn as he was, he still felt nauseous deep down inside when a peeking stalk eye ran quickly over the plan that he had formulated. But this was what he was trained for: Tough decisions. There was never going to be an easy solution. There never had been. War was a terrible thing, and he knew that very well. He fought for his people, he felt for his people and he killed for his people. That was what mattered.

<I sign my name, War Commander Torceran-Ehlar-Alaxalim, to this document. May the stars grant us the luck we need,> He uttered with the confidence of his loyalty. < _Ammarumor_ Horvallack, do you approve this course of action?>

<I do, War Commander.>

Horvallack entered the voice clips into the computer system to be forever tied to the document. Torceran retained his composure until Horvallack left the room to spread the news among a small few. The doubts remained deep within, the missing pieces of the puzzle still relentlessly tugging at his rock-solid ego.

He could see the picture so clearly, but those small, seemingly insignificant little holes were like gaping caverns in his dreams that night.

He knew the damage they could do, what they had already done. An entire empire had neglected those gaps before, and now the Yeerks were little more than history.

He vowed that he would not make the same mistake, but despite all his years of experience, his cunning and his intellect, somehow he couldn’t quite convince himself.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 1**

**Six Years Earlier**

My eyes opened to the cold dark metal that enclosed us. My cheek was rested against warm flooring, but it left as I rolled wearily onto my back. Bright sunlight pierced through the cross-grid ceiling that caged us and yet provided us with essential air from the outside world.

I groaned, head aching as I tried to lift it. I used weakened arms to push myself up, only to see the ragged old clothes that covered my body. The small container held us all. All six of us, and my first thought was to double-check, to make sure. They, too, were waking up within our new location.

Tobias was the first to move, quicker to snap to alert in his hawk body. He fluttered over, staring up at me with those piercing eyes. <Jake, you okay?>

“Yeah,” I answered, rubbing over my face to notice the messy beard that hugged my chin. “Yeah, I’m okay. I’m fine.”

Marco was also exploring his new facial hair, but that was not his greatest interest. “What the hell… What is this?!” He asked to no one but our container.

“It looks like some sort of storage cell.” Menderash guessed. He was to my left, the first to his feet. When I noticed his facial hair, too, I realised that something was greatly amiss. We had been gone for some time.

Marco looked at his light-brown, torn clothing. “What is…?” He was lost for words, and I could see him growing more agitated with each passing second.

I got to my feet. An equally unkempt Santorelli had risen as well, investigating the confined space intently. Jeanne remained sitting, watching closely as our emotions began to unfold.

“A storage cell?” Santorelli asked of Menderash, tapping a thick knuckle against the hard metal circular wall. “This look familiar to you?”

Menderash shook his head, a strand of curly black hair falling in front of his eyes that he quickly pulled away. “No. It’s certainly not living quarters, though.”

“Way too hot for living quarters,” I added, gazing up against at the grid ceiling, covering my eyes to protect from the blazing Sun. “We need to get out of this thing.”

“Good thinking, Batman,” Marco chimed in, a sarcastic tone to his voice. “Then we need to figure out what the hell happened. Last thing I remember…”

He stopped to think, and then rubbed at his wetted forehead, looking to the rest of us. He was grasping for help.

<The Blade Ship.> Tobias said. He had flown to the shaded side of the round container, keeping from the increasing heat.

Santorelli nodded. “Bright light. That’s what I remember seein’.”

“So we’re dead?” Marco said. “If this is heaven, I want my money back.”

Jeanne pointed a delicate finger to one side of our claustrophobic capsule, and in a delicate French accent said, “There, look.”

We all followed her signal. I was closest, and I ran an overgrown fingernail over an indentation. It was a gap in the metal that formed a perfect circle, wide enough to fit somebody through.

“This is our way out.” I informed with relief. I turned sideways and barged my shoulder against the metal, but it didn’t budge.

Marco was over in an instant, thanking Jeanne as he moved. “A gorgeous French accent _and_ good observation skills. I love it,” He kicked at the door, and then rushed it with a shoulder. The metal creaked a little. “Damn it! Hold on, give me a minute…”

His hands began to enlarge. Dark fur started to sprout on his wrists, heading up his arms.

Then Santorelli appeared between us, a determined furrow on his brow. “Don’t waste your energy, Marco. You might need it.”

Marco looked perplexed and narrowed his eyes. “What do you m-”

Santorelli began before he had a chance to question. The US Army Ranger reached up and grabbed at the bars that lined the ceiling of our container, pulled his bulky body up with ease and swung back. With a great thud, he fired his two trunk-like legs at the door as he swung back forward, removing it clean from its frame. It bounced on the ground outside.

An vicious glow filled the container, forcing us all to cover our eyes. With my limited senses I witnessed Tobias zooming to the outside. We all waited on his report.

<Safe, guys,> was all he said.

So we emerged. Santorelli dutifully left first, stepping through the circular door and into the open. One by one we followed. I had hoped that the heat would be more forgiving, but I was saddened to feel it still brutally burrowing at my skin.

My bare feet touched coarse, dry sand. When my eyes grew accustomed to the light, I saw bright blue sky above and the brown-orange of a desert below. There were mountains in the distance, and a sparse distribution of plants and small desert trees around us.

I turned back to look at our container. There were no markings or symbols. It was just as bland and soulless on the outside as it was on the inside.

“Tobias?!” Marco called up into the air, wincing in the sunlight.

<Desert, guys,> He reported back, flying high up ahead. <As far as I can see. Look familiar?>

It didn’t to Jeanne and Menderash, but to me, Santorelli and Marco, it was quite distinct.

“Yucca palms…” Santorelli muttered, taking a closer look at one of the small trees.

Marco nodded, rubbing a hand through his wavy black hair. “Mojave Desert.”

“So we’re back on Earth,” Menderash commented, his own curlier Human hair slicked back with sweat. “How strange. We were so far away. Roughly six months of space travel.”

Jeanne added, “And judging by your beard, it took six months to get back.”

Marco snorted. “Six months? Jake couldn’t grow a beard like that in two years.”

I ignored his typical jab and took a pause to think. “Menderash, do you have any idea how long it’s been?”

He looked up, and then shook his head. “No, Prince Jake. I recall nothing after seeing the Blade Ship. It’s as if we’ve been asleep from that point until this.”

“Great,” Marco huffed. “Just great. You mean we’ve wasted our time?!”

Everybody fell silent, considering the implications, but also not wanting to admit it.

Marco shook his head and exhaled gruffly. “Six months searching through space, only to be lost in the desert?! I threw away my life for _this_?!”

“We don’t know what’s happened, Marco.” I insisted in a tone intended to calm him. It didn’t work, made obvious when he kicked angrily at a sandy mound in reply.

“I have a pretty good idea,” He argued, crossing his arms over his chest. “We’ve failed in our suicide mission, and somehow we’ve ended up in a desert looking like we just crawled out of the gutter.”

“We don’t know,” I repeated. “There must be some reason why we’re back here.”

“And so close to home.” Santorelli said.

Marco looked thoughtful, putting aside his anger for the moment. Menderash, to his left, appeared deeply troubled, like he felt he should’ve known more than he had given. Nobody had any ideas, but we all silently and collectively concluded that it was no coincidence that we were so close to home.

<Ellimist?> Tobias chimed in. Judging by the lack of reaction from anybody else, I assumed that he had spoken it privately to me.

It couldn’t be. He would have made himself known, as he had done in the past. It seemed so unlike him to influence our lives without making an appearance to at least one of us. I shook my head subtly, enough for Tobias to see my answer.

I knew it was something I would have to figure out later. I rubbed at my sweat-soaked forehead as the others began to postulate their own theories. Marco remained mostly quiet and aside, and I could only imagine the frustration he held.

And Tobias disappeared from everybody’s sight. He had been a reclusive mystery for years, so it came as no surprise.

Deep in thought, I unfolded my arms and dropped them into the heated pockets of my torn and thin knee-length shorts. Something crumpled against my fingers. It was unfamiliar, and I immediately pulled it up and into my line of vision. The new noise of unfurling plastic material brought everybody to attention. Even Marco put aside his self-pitying to come for a closer look.

Inside the small, transparent bag was a tuft of fur. Blue fur. It was cut neatly and deliberately. I had my instant suspicions, but I handed the item to Menderash for an expert opinion.

His analysis was quick and decisive. “Andalite hair,” He declared. Then he found an opening in the material, and placed his nose close to sniff at the cuttings. “Aximili.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 2**

“He’s alive,” Marco concluded with firm conviction. “Whoever put that in your pocket wanted to make sure that we knew.”

“That seems logical.” Menderash opined.

Tobias had returned, and though he tried to appear nonchalant by preening his feathers, his silence was telling. The only reason he had agreed to come along in the first place was to rescue his _shorm_ – his close friend. We all had doubts that Ax would still be alive, but just enough hope to find out. Now, apparently, we had.

We had seen him. He was a distorted image, a formation of a strange being that referred to itself as The One. That was no clear indication in itself on whether Ax was alive, rather that he may have been irreversibly assimilated into the unknown entity.

Why would we be returned so close to home with a cutting of his hair? It was no accident. It was what we were trying to figure out as we sat amongst the rocks beside the container we had been held in.

“‘Ram the blade ship’… That was the last thing I heard,” Jeanne recalled, sitting on a large rock with her elbows rested upon her knees. She looked to me. “And that was you.”

“That’s the last I recall.” Santorelli agreed.

I nodded, pursing my lips and turning my eyes to the ground. “So we’re clear: We all blanked at the same time, just after we saw this… thing.”

“ _The One Who Is Many_.” Marco retorted, pulling out the words as if he were some grand old wizard reading from a tome. 

<Must you do that?> Tobias grumbled. It was the first he had spoken for a few minutes.

“Just trying to keep our spirits up. Geez…”

“And that was in December, 2005,” I continued. “So assuming Earth is as it should be, we can travel back home to find out how long we’ve been gone.”

“And shave this shit.” Santorelli replied, rubbing at his light-brown beard.

Marco smiled and raised his arms in faux joy. “Can’t wait! We go home to shave and make sure we’re in the right decade.”

<I swear to god, Marco….> Tobias said.

Marco ignored his groaning, but then took on a more serious tone. “Well, I don’t know about you, but I’m keeping this for a very specific reason.” He pointed at his overgrown hair.

Menderash was quick to follow his logic. “It would seem like a good idea. Now that we are back on Earth, we will likely need to remain anonymous. A different outer appearance would be wise.”

The realisation dawned on us all and nothing needed explaining between the team. We had begun the mission under the apprehension that we might not make it back. We had stolen two vessels in order to make the journey: One Andalite ship and one Yeerk ship under Andalite possession.

I asked Menderash, “How severe is our crime?”

He stared with weary, deep brown eyes. “Severe. We would not walk as free Humans. My own punishment would be worse, as I would likely be seen as a traitor to my people.”

“This just gets better and better.” Marco sighed, getting up off of the sand bank he had been sitting on and walking off to the side.

I responded to Menderash after a brief consideration of his role. “Menderash, does the Andalite military know that you are a _nothlit_? Do they know you’re Human?”

He shook his head and dropped his chin into a resting hand. “No. Only Caysath knows, and he has vowed silence on the matter. However, it will be noted that I am missing.”

“But they don’t know your Human appearance.”

“No, Prince Jake.”

I took note of it, stored it in my memory. “Jeanne. Sarge. You, too?”

“Same story.” Santorelli replied. Jeanne nodded.

Except that they were not in an entirely new body. They were more liable to be associated with us. “Okay. We remain incognito until we figure out what we do next.”

“Next?!” Marco turned on his spot. “What do you mean next? What the hell are we going to do?!”

“We can’t go back, that’s for sure.” I explained.

He looked conflicted. He knew I was right. “Well… Well what? Are we going to sit around in the desert until _The One Who Is Many_ comes back for seconds?”

Menderash stood up, seemingly receiving a hidden message that Marco didn’t express the same dedication that he held. “We will find a way to bring Prince Aximili back to Andalite space.”

Marco did not back down and moved in closer to Menderash. “Okay, Mister _First Officer_. Explain how. Enlighten me.”

Menderash glared at Marco, but came up with no answer. Santorelli had since risen, standing just between the two in case things got heated, which seemed ever more likely as the climate grew hotter around us.

“I thought so,” Marco huffed, waving a hand dismissively. He turned to look at me. “We have nothing. How long would it take to find that freak again? Without a ship.”

I took the packet of Ax’s fur in my hand, lifting it up to show him. Then I threw it forward and he caught it. “I don’t know, Marco. Not yet. But somebody out there wants us to try.”

He fell silent, but he was expressionless as he took a closer look at his old friend’s hair. His arm dropped to his side, as did his gaze.

He was acting erratically. It was scary to see him bounce between joking and sarcastic, to confrontational and downright pessimistic. Something wasn’t right at all.

I looked past him to Tobias. He was sitting alone on a discarded, rotted piece of fencing that lay on the ground. His preening had ended, curiosity in the conversation taking over. He would remain silent unless prompted, so I spoke up. “Tobias?”

His hawk eyes turned away, and he ruffled his feathers before speaking. <I’m already anonymous enough. I don’t need a beard.>

“It’s so hard to tell you apart from all those other talking birds.” Marco teased. I was relieved to see the slightest of smirks on his face, hidden away behind the hair.

Menderash, always so unnecessarily deferential to me despite his respectable rank in the Andalite military, bowed to me once he’d breached my eye line. “Prince Jake, we will continue?”

“I plan to. We’ve won with smaller odds,” I told him. “And stop calling me Prince.”

Marco pushed the packet of hair into his loose right-hand pocket. “I never liked my TV show, anyway. So cheesy.”

I smiled to him, happy to see him still on my side. “What about that girl? The model?”

He shrugged. I could see the reluctance in his stance, but I also saw the Marco I used to know in the days of the war, somewhere behind the debris. “I always said models were overrated.”

<No you didn’t.> Tobias corrected.

“Don’t spoil the moment.” Marco grumbled.

“So where do we go to?” Jeanne asked. I looked from her to Santorelli and back, pleased to observe them just as dedicated. Maybe they also saw little hope of a return to normal life when they left with us on _The Rachel_. They didn’t know Ax but from the tales told of him and various television interviews before he left for true military life.

It was a dedication to me, their tutor. Part of me was worried that I had dragged them into such an irreversible situation, but then I remembered that both were older than me, with vast swathes of experience in professional, integral fields. This was all their choice.

“Santa Barbara,” I decided. “Home town. So long as we can get back without being noticed, we can make plans there. We’ll stop off in a few stores before we get back, buy some new sunglasses, maybe get a haircut.”

“Definitely,” Marco said. “Can’t go back to Santa Barbara looking like we’ve lost our cardboard box.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 3**

We headed west. We _thought_ it was west. Menderash worked under the assumption that we had returned after six months, assessed the positioning of the sun and from that came up with a direction. West seemed like a good way to go because we would eventually find civilisation or coast. It might have taken a lot of walking, though.

We considered morphing at first to grant us extra speed, but we would have leave him behind or let him ride one of our morphs and risk getting injured. I wouldn’t permit either, so we walked with slow Human legs. At least we had Tobias in the sky to survey the area.

There were some signs of Human activity. Marco found a crushed soda can. Santorelli spotted a trash-filled plastic bag. An old abandoned truck sat amidst a cluster of Yucca palms. Our journey was taking us in the right direction.

“You sure they wanted to drop us home?” Marco asked me, walking by my side. “They couldn’t have put us in my backyard?”

“You think we wouldn’t still be walking if they had?” I said back.

“No. But as long as I can see my thirty-foot fountain, I can find my way back. At least we wouldn’t be _totally_ lost.”

I took a short detour over a sand bank to our left, separating us from the others so we would not be overheard. I wanted to clear up a few things. “Marco, I didn’t see this happening.”

“See what happening?” He asked, stepping over a small collection of rocks and yelping out when the back of his heel scraped over one.

“You know what I mean. This. Waking up here.”

“Duh. You think I’m blaming you for that?”

I shrugged. “No. I just thought we’d…”

He finished for me as I struggled for the right words. “Get lost in space? Find the Enterprise and party with Spock? Die?”

I didn’t know if I would have chosen any of them, but it helped me to discover that I never knew to begin with. I shot him a look and he seemed to catch on.

“I know what this is, Jake,” He uttered, turning down his volume. “And I’m sure we talked about it before we left. You made a decision to save Ax. _This_ is a setback. A defeat. Now you’re blaming yourself. Listen, you tried. Something happened that you couldn’t control, and now we’re back at square-one. But you know what? We’re still here. Square-one isn’t square-dead.”

“Maybe-”

“No. It wasn’t a mistake, dude,” He insisted, slapping a hand down on my shoulder twice before jumping down a shallow bank ahead of me. “You think I got angry back there because I think this was a mistake?”

I didn’t want to put words in his mouth, so I shrugged again, pushing him to continue.

“I got angry because we were so close, Jake,” He explained. “We saw Ax. Something of him, at least. Just because I have my big mansion, my… I forget how many acres I have, my model girlfriend who was also an A-list actress, doesn’t mean that I don’t care for you guys. You know what? I’d trade it all to get Ax back.”

“I know that,” I replied. “And I knew it back then.”

“So no, Jake. This isn’t a failure, man. The failure would be going home now and staying there.”

I smiled to him, returning his slap on the shoulder. “That game show has turned you into a real good speaker.”

“Huh? It’s a natural talent!”

We started to turn back towards the others, melding into the single file that passed along the narrow beaten path. “I never planned to stay back in Santa Barbara,” I explained to Marco as he moved in front of me. I still had a clear view over his head. “But we need a place to plan our next steps.”

“I sure hope you don’t suggest my mansion…”

“Why not? It’s big enough to hide away in for a few days.”

He snorted and looked over his shoulder. “What if Wetherbee sees us?”

“Wetherbee?”

“Yeah! My butler. I’m sure you’ve met him.”

“Would he still be there? Even if you’d been gone a year? Or more?”

He turned back around after almost stumbling over some dried wood. “Somebody’s got to water the orchids.”

“Can you think of anywhere better?” I pressed.

He pondered it, and then sighed when he gave up. “Fine. We’ll head to _Maison de Marco_.”

Our walk continued for some time. We were starting to tire, starting to lose hope and starting to get some bad sunburn. Tobias had very little to call down to us, other than reports of more trash that had been deposited by careless travellers. Our worries began to increase when the sun started its descent to the horizon and our need for water increased.

Thankfully, just before we were due to stop and have a re-think, Tobias finally brought us some good news. <Hey guys, I see a road up ahead.>

That really got us moving, and in no time we had jumped some ragged old fencing to stand beside the glorious light-grey streak that stretched infinitely to our left and our right.

Then the long wait began. We were naïve to think that a road automatically meant that vehicles would be present. Menderash was handily keeping track of his approximate time, but after a while, his half-hourly announcements became tiresome. The five of us were agitated, looking even more dishevelled than the fence we lined up against.

“Maybe it’s true,” Marco spoke up after a long, painful silence. “Everybody died. Earth is deserted. We’re actually sitting on the Vegas Strip.”

“What I wouldn’t give to see Vegas right now.” Santorelli added from his daydreaming.

“Maybe we should go?” Jeanne suggested, pointing a finger into the distance where the road led.

“I agree. Prince Jake,” Menderash said, feeling it crucial to drag me into the conversation. “If a vehicle is not coming, maybe we’d better follow this road. There may be some shelter, in case we’re still out when night arrives.”

We were reluctant to move again, but it seemed like the best option. We followed the road, paying close attention for reports from Tobias way up high. The longer it went on, the more silent we fell and the more aware of our own thirst we became. It wouldn’t be long before we would have to stop again.

<I see something, just coming over the horizon. It’s… Yeah, it’s a truck!>

At last, some good news! We all perked at Tobias’ announcement and immediately looked to each other for clarification that we had not just been imagining it. Soon, the beautiful sound of a whirring engine became a reality, and we edged our toes right up to the side of the road. We would not be missed.

It was a rusty old red pick-up truck, the very sort you’d expect to see chugging along a desert road. It certainly wasn’t going to be as comfortable as Marco’s limousine, but none of us cared in the slightest. When it came into full view, we began to wave our arms in the air, so desperate that merely sticking out a thumb wasn’t going to be an option.

He came closer. And closer. And closer… He wasn’t slowing down.

So we started shouting, started to jog down the side of the road as he began to pass us, but to no avail. The truck passed me, the frowning man inside not looking particularly moved by our situation. We probably didn’t look too trustworthy.

Maybe one of us did, though. Just when we had lost hope, the vehicle suddenly and noisily applied the brakes when it passed the last person in the line: Jeanne.

The driver pulled over to our side of the road, and waved us over with a thick finger, engine still chugging haughtily.

We indicated to Jeanne that she should be the one to speak. It was hearing her calls and seeing her waving that made the driver stop. When we jogged towards the truck, Santorelli spoke quietly to me. “Think it was the French accent? Or the fact that she still looks like she could star in James Bond movies, even in those rags?”

I considered the questions rhetorical and we all came to a stop beside Jeanne as she stepped up to the truck’s window. The narrow-eyed man inside, complete with a cigarette drooping from the corner of his mouth, looked her over with intrigue. “You ain’t from around here.” He observed.

“We have a genius…” Marco whispered to me. I shoved an elbow into his ribs.

Jeanne responded with her unmistakeable French accent. “Excuse me, we are lost and we have no water. Could you please help us to the nearest town?”

The man stared a few second longer. Everybody breathed the exact same sigh of relief when he flicked his head towards the back of his truck. One by one, we gave our sincere thanks, and jumped into the back of the pick-up truck.

We were heading home.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 4**

<There! Open window! I knew Wetherbee would leave at least one open!>

Five birds of prey suddenly turned all at once, already looking somewhat suspicious as they all circled the huge white-walled mansion that sat overlooking the city, an eyesore that rested below a backdrop of glorious mountains and a bright blue sky. Marco had flown behind the building to find the open window on the third floor, and we watched as his osprey morph swooped down towards it.

<Got it unlatched!> He called as we all made our way around. <Let’s get inside before people start noticing.>

How many people would notice five different species of bird flying in through a single mansion window, the first of which having flicked up the latch to allow a wider opening? An osprey, a Peregrine Falcon, a Red-Tailed Hawk, a Golden Eagle and a Zone-Tailed Hawk. Hey, at least most of them were native to California.

Marco’s mansion lived a short distance away from the rest of the city, stuck within a bubble of its own acres of driveway and lawn. But the land was mostly bare, save a couple water fountains, trees and some plant rows. It wouldn’t give away a war hero, but just another everyday millionaire.

As I flew in through the hallway window, I was quick to discover that it wasn’t so much different inside. I dropped down on top of a desk holding nothing more than a fancy clock. The hallway was familiar to me, but I remembered that there was much of the place I hadn’t yet explored. Sometimes, I doubted that even Marco had seen it all.

There was nothing distinctly _Marco_ in it. None of his teenage shows was depicted, nor were there any signs of video game memorabilia. Nothing to remind him of who he had been. Maybe I shouldn’t have expected much in a mere corridor, but it was the same throughout the place.

Tobias was the last to float in as the rest of us began to demorph. Our first morph-demorph experience for a while had done nothing to make the sickening process any easier. I looked down at myself halfway through, seeing a naked falcon body with great big Human feet. I instantly looked to the ceiling again and sighed with an emerging Human mouth as the morph delivered its final touches.

“Jeanne. Tobias. Sarge,” Marco said. I lowered my eyes to focus on a fully-demorphed group, with the usual exception of Tobias. “Welcome to my humble abode!”

“Very humble, monkey man.” Santorelli said, staring at a painting illuminated on the mahogany wall.

“The place is empty?” Jeanne asked.

“Wetherbee is probably here somewhere,” Marco responded, waving an arm to guide us down through the corridor. “But he’s usually taking care of the billiard room at this time of day. I just hope Menderash doesn’t bump into him.”

Of course, Menderash couldn’t simply fly up three floors and through an open window. The _nothlit_ had to sneak in. Before entering the building, Marco had opened the main gate by skilfully using his beak to type a code into the main gate’s interface. Menderash was taking the long walk up to the front door, which Marco had insisted would be unlocked. The place clearly had great security.

Since Santorelli and Jeanne hadn’t really gotten to know Marco in an informal environment, he was eager to show them around and make them feel comfortable. He led us into a room that I had entered on a few previous occasions, and one that I could only describe as the _Marco Room_. It was the only one that really showed any hints of Marco’s real character. There was an enormous television with the best sound system. Every game console imaginable was housed beneath, which would usually cause an utter mess but had since all been tidied away.

He offered them drinks from a personal fridge. Santorelli was eager for a beer, so was gifted with the best. Jeanne asked for orange juice, and so Marco took a venture behind his own personal bar that was lined with expensive spirits. Only now was he legally allowed to purchase them, though that hadn’t stopped him before.

“Ice?” He asked, trying to look professional. He spun a small glass in one hand and began to prepare her beverage. When she said yes, he performed some more trickery before stumbling and finding the ice box empty. He eventually delivered her drink as Santorelli and I sat down on the stools either side of her. Tobias remained nearby, perched atop the great big television screen. We assumed he was speaking to Menderash via thought-speak, trying to guide him up to us, even though he had no idea of the mansion’s layout.

“Jake?” Marco prodded. He was waiting for my order.

“Beam.” I responded.

Marco didn’t look surprised. He turned, grabbed a tumbler glass and searched for a bottle of Jim Beam.

They got to know each other a bit better, which seemed so much simpler with drinks in hand. It had been fourteen months since they had all been introduced, yet it was amazing how little they knew of each other. Marco and Santorelli found some television shows to laugh about, while I discussed with Jeanne about her previous work.

Yeah, fourteen months. That’s how long we’d been “missing”.

We all looked a lot neater. Upon leaving the desert, we were taken to a small town where we immediately began to alter our appearances. We bought new clothes, sunglasses and hair dyes with some money we managed to scrounge together (by means that we would normally avoid, but a bit of petty theft seemed like our only option in the circumstance. We would remember to correct our misdeeds in due time). We even bought contact lenses meant to change eye colour. Then we all got our hair cut to something a little different than before, hoping that the people doing the job wouldn’t recognise us. The guy doing my hair was very suspicious, but I was able to throw him off the scent.

I kept my beard, but had it neatened and left my head hair medium-length. Marco had settled for a Van Dyke style, but decided to keep his hair long.

Santorelli changed very little, perhaps so used to his military lifestyle. He had removed all signs of facial hair and shortened what remained on top. And then there was Jeanne, who decided that she would simply start dying her hair to be darker. 

We all looked and felt a lot cleaner. Now, back in Santa Barbara, we needed to be, just to avoid standing out in a crowd.

Then again, we didn’t plan to stay very long. Our conversations were informal up to the point when the curly-black-haired Menderash finally poked his head through the big fancy door.

I don’t know how Andalites did it. Even as _nothlits_. Everything became very serious and formal. He refused a beer, but joined us at the bar nonetheless. Tobias came down to stand beside him, and, united, we started to piece together an impossible puzzle.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 5**

Menderash dialled the number he had memorised into the phone that we had pulled from beside the big leather sofa. “I’m sure this is the number he gave me.” He muttered as he lifted it to his ear.

We had gathered around. Menderash was in the centre of the three-seater sofa with me and Jeanne either side. Marco and Santorelli were standing before us, and Tobias had returned to his perch atop the big television screen that loomed above. It was an important call and we were so desperate to get through.

“Has it got loudspeaker?” I asked.

The concept baffled Menderash, but Marco reached forward, took the phone and pressed the correct button.

It started ringing. Marco was quick to set the phone down on the foot rest placed in front of the sofa.

“Wait,” Santorelli started as the ringing continued. “How does an Andalite speak into a phone?”

Marco answered in his preferred manner. “With a transmodulating vibratosensory physioconductor, of course.”

Menderash looked up and shook his head, unaware of Marco’s tone even after so much time stuck on a spaceship with him. “Actually, it’s a neurosensory modulatory communication amplification unit, or simply NMCAU. We started using them in Earth year 2002 in order that we could converse with Human speakers over your primitive long-distance communication units.”

“Oh yeah. That’s it.” Marco said, rolling his eyes.

It rang for a while, at least ten times, but Menderash assured us that the communication unit meant that time was taken to configure on the other side. His theory was proven correct when the ringing stopped abruptly.

The muffled, spookily electronic voice of Caysath-Winwall-Esgarrouth arrived. “Who is this?”

Menderash gazed to the phone and raised his volume so that he wouldn’t be misheard. “Prince Caysath-Winwall-Esgarrouth, this is Mederash-Postill-Fastill, First Officer of the Andal ship Intrepid.”

“Menderash?!” Caysath blurted, though it sounded heavily distorted and compressed through the translation unit. “Are you on Earth?!”

“Yes, Prince Caysath. We have just returned after fourteen Earth months of being in space. We… we have a lot to speak of.”

Caysath went straight to the point. “Any news on Prince Aximili?”

“Yes, my Prince,” Menderash responded. “Though the news comes with no certainty and only assumed probability.”

Caysath was silent for a moment. “He is not with you?”

Menderash shook his head, even though Caysath could not see. “My Prince, we came across something completely unfamiliar. It was some form of technology or creature or… something else. It called itself The One. It appears to have taken Aximili in some way, of which we can’t be sure. We saw his face.”

“ _The One_? I’ve never heard of it. A Kelbrid creation?”

“It’s unclear, my Prince,” Menderash gravely said. “But it seemed to be aboard the Blade Ship that ambushed _Intrepid_.”

“What else can you tell me about it?” Caysath pressed, a clear eagerness in his distorted tone.

“It appeared to hack into our ship’s computer system in order to transmit its message.”

“Inter-vessel electronic manipulation?!” Caysath blurted. We all looked to each other, puzzled. Except Menderash, of course.

“Yes, my Prince.”

Caysath hummed ponderously through the phone. “Such technology is beyond even our scientists. Certainly far past the abilities of some rogue Yeerks. It must be something to do with the Kelbrids…”

I butted into their conversation. “What makes you think it’s the Kelbrids? You said that the Kelbrids haven’t been seen. Unseen for so long that your people don’t even remember what they look like.”

Caysath fell silent again. Then, he said, “Who was that? Menderash?”

“It was Prince Jake,” He replied. “He is here with me, as is the rest of the crew.”

“Ah, of course,” Caysath mumbled. “My sincere apologise for not recognising your voice, Jake. I struggle to hear clearly with these _telephone_ devices.”

“No problem.” I excused.

“Anyway, to answer your question… we don’t know. It is our best guess.”

The others looked stunned, even Menderash this time. Marco mouthed the words to me, “ _Is he serious?!”_

Caysath wouldn’t have noticed, so he continued. “So what happened after this being appeared?”

Menderash and I exchanged glances. He allowed me to explain. “We don’t know. We seemed to blank out, all at the same moment. Eight months later, we wake up back on Earth.”

“Eight Earth months?” Caysath considered. “And you have no idea what happened during that time?”

“Nope.”

Then came his longest pause. I swear he left the phone to go searching for something, or to speak to somebody. Maybe he was making more guesses. He returned and said, “This is most unusual. One thing is for certain: no Andalite deployment spotted you during the fourteen months, unless it went unreported. As far as we knew, you had gone missing, with the sole exception of me, of course.”

“It’s probably best if it stays that way.” I suggested bluntly.

“Yes, of course,” He replied. “You presume correctly that keeping a low profile would be wise.”

Santorelli asked, “What have been the reports since we left?”

Caysath was not thrown off by the new voice entering the conversation. “The connection between the disappearance of two of the self-proclaimed Animorphs and two of Jake’s students, and the loss of Prince Aximili-Esgarrouth-Isthill was quickly made. As was the assault of two Andalite guards and the stealing of two vessels. Unfortunately, Jake, First Officer Menderash, both our people and the Humans have arrived at the truth.”

I nodded to myself and pursed my lips. “If we get caught?”

Caysath hummed a bit to think. “You are much loved among the Humans, Jake… But unfortunately, that would not save you from the consequences of your actions. Put simply, you would no longer be in a position to rescue Prince Aximili.”

He knew that was what we wanted, and that that would hit home.

Menderash had a vital question. “Prince Caysath. Is it known that I am a _nothlit_?”

“No, First Officer. I have kept that information to myself. Do not worry about inquiries. I have all that taken care of.”

“Thank you, Prince Caysath.”

“And you all understand why I do this?” Caysath asked the whole group.

We looked to each other, throwing together our silent opinions.

“You do it for Ax,” I answered. “Just as we do.”

“Correct,” He responded. “For my people, I betray them to keep your presence secret. It’s a difficult situation for all of us, but I trust your dedication and hope this will work to everybody’s benefit.”

“So what next?” Marco urged to break his silence. “We’re back on Earth with no ship, and we’ll get arrested by the Andalite cops as soon as we reveal ourselves.”

“As I mentioned, it’s a difficult situation!” Caysath grumbled, his frustration to think of a solution audible even with the computerised sound. “But as you know, I cannot travel into Kelbrid space, and you are our only allies willing to take on such a mission. I will do my best to think up a plan, as I’m sure you will, and in time maybe we’ll come up with something.”

“You couldn’t give us a ship?” Santorelli asked.

“Give you a ship?” Caysath scoffed. “A missing ship won’t go unnoticed, and I will not risk my position to perform such a feat. Nor will I suggest that you do. We have already far over-stepped our bounds.”

“So we’re stuck…” Marco groaned.

“For the moment,” Caysath huffed, almost defensively. “But… there is something you might do in the meantime.”

We perked up and all returned our wandering eyes to the phone.

“What is it?” Menderash asked.

“This _The One_ being… It is certainly not something anybody has heard of before. At least, not in Andalite circles.”

“It was with the Yeerks…” Jeanne stated, fast approaching the answer he was pushing for.

“Precisely!” Caysath agreed. “Now, that means that there is a possibility that the Yeerks knew of this… _thing_ before the end of the war.”

Marco shrugged. “ _Or_ they could have found it after entering Kelbrid space.”

“Perhaps,” Caysath said. “But this isn’t the first time the Yeerks have entered Kelbrid space. They were not bound to the treaty that keeps Andalites and Kelbrids separate.”

Marco was starting to look more convinced. “Wait, you’re saying that the Yeerks were in Kelbrid space before the war ended?”

“That is exactly what I’m saying. They didn’t seem to breach far, from what we gathered, but we knew they were there. Did you ever hear of a race called the Mak?”

“Vaguely.” I replied.

“They fell to the Yeerks. Their home planet lies within Kelbrid space. We knew of the Yeerk invasion, because the Mak supply ships would often cross into our territory.”

“So if the Yeerks have been in Kelbrid space for years,” Marco sussed. “They could have some answers on what that _One_ thing is.”

Santorelli looked puzzled. “Aren’t all the Yeerks _nothlits_? Or most of them?”

I shook my head. “Some were. The others were taken back to the Yeerk homeworld without any hosts. And besides, I don’t think any low-level Yeerk soldier would be granted that kind of info.”

Suddenly, a grin appeared on Marco. “Don’t we know a high-level Yeerk? One that isn’t a _nothlit_ and that hasn’t been returned to the home planet?”

Caysath was curious. “Which Yeerk are you referring to?”

“The one that, last I heard, was serving multiple life sentences in a Kansas max-security prison. An old friend of ours.”

“Ah,” Caysath said. “ _That_ one.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 6**

“It’s just Esplin 9466, now,” I said. “No longer Visser Three, or Visser One. Just regular old Esplin 9466.”

Marco had assured us that mansion would be empty after dark, and when Tobias reported the elusive Wetherbee leaving the main gates, we were given the grand tour as our discussions grew more detailed and ambitious. We had stopped in the billiard room, and Santorelli was distracted as he was busy annihilating Marco. It wasn’t Marco’s most familiar game, and Santorelli explained that he had become somewhat of a sports generalist in his military occupation. It showed.

Nevertheless, it was only something to keep brains churning as we discussed the new phase we were entering.

Menderash sounded like he wanted to spit at the mention of our previous foe’s name. “The beast doesn’t even deserve a name.”

“Well, it’s all he has left,” I sighed. “If we took his name, he would have nothing else to live for.”

“Take it, then,” Menderash sneered. “Not only an incompetent leader, but a murderer. I think your Human justice system has been far too lenient on him.”

<It’s your justice system now, too.> Tobias commented.

Menderash looked to the hawk sitting up atop the door. “Is the hawk justice system yours, Tobias?”

<No. But I never chose to become a _nothlit_.>

Menderash dipped his head at Tobias’ implication. “I betrayed my crew. I became a _nothlit_ not through choice, but through duty; my duty to travel into Kelbrid space and rescue my Prince.”

Tobias was silent after that. I noticed the bitter nature of his words, but then was not the time for me to chase it up. We had bigger problems to face.

Santorelli took a shot, and then leant on his cue. “Yeah, the Visser was incompetent, but from what I hear, the entire empire was more self-defeatin’ than the Davy Crockett mortar!”

Menderash bypassed the obscure reference, but got the gist of what Santorelli was saying. “That’s right. The Yeerks were beyond incompetent, but what would you expect? The race had never experienced war, military organisation or tactical leadership. They were given advanced technology and took control of new host bodies that they had no immediate knowledge of, that themselves had little to no knowledge of war or fighting.”

“It’s like putting a toddler in charge of an M1 Abrams.” Marco chimed in. His military reference received him a sporting, firm pat on the back by Santorelli.

“And the Visser was the most incompetent of them all,” Menderash hissed. “A buffoon, more dangerous to his own soldiers than any enemy. A coward and a murderer.”

“So you don’t like him?” Jeanne asked with a cheeky smile.

As expected, Menderash couldn’t comprehend the humour behind her words. “No, I do not. I detest the monster.”

“Instead of criticising him – even if it’s justified – we need to discuss him,” I insisted, standing by the edge of the billiard table as Marco was preparing to take a shot from the opposite side. “Unless anybody else can think of any high-rank Yeerks that reside on Earth in their natural form?”

Nobody answered. Menderash tightened his lips and frowned, his eyes looking to the boarded floor.

I nodded. “Okay. Let’s go with the assumption that that is our best option.” 

There was a click as Marco’s white ball struck another. For the first time in the game, the ball fell neatly into the central hole. He lifted himself from the table and punched at the air with a hushed “Yes!”

“Won’t be a casual visit.” Santorelli noted, smirking at Marco’s reaction and quickly out-doing Marco’s relatively simple shot.

“The prison is secure,” Jeanne added. She was sitting in a comfy leather seat at the side of the room, legs folded. “He is imprisoned there because it is heavily guarded.”

“She’s right,” Marco said, judging the table. “Maximum security. We’ll need to pull off something special to get inside. Or, we could arrange for a friend’s visit. Think he’s allowed to see friends or family once every month?”

“I don’t know much about the facility,” Menderash commented, his eyes on me. “I assume the plan is to speak to the Yeerk without revealing ourselves to the Humans. We’d need a layout plan.”

“That will be easy to find.” Jeanne replied with a grin.

“Aren’t we jumpin’ the gun a little here?” Santorelli asked. “If we want to interrogate this guy, why don’t we just get Caysath and the Andalites to do it? Who needs to sneak anywhere when those guys could just ask?”

Marco knew. He even delayed the shot he was about to take in order to answer. “Why do we want to ask the Visser questions in the first place? Because _we_ found something in Kelbrid Space that he might know about. The Andalites are going to be just a bit suspicious when Caysath, out of nowhere, decides to interrogate an ex-Visser about some weird thing out in Kelbrid Space called _The One_ , that neither he nor any other Andalite has seen before. Bar Menderash. Sorta.”

“He could tell his Andalite guys that he asked other questions. Then he could pass the juicy stuff to us.” Santorelli suggested.

“Uh-uh,” Marco retorted. “I don’t think they’ll buy that story: _Caysath went to interrogate the Visser, asking questions about his favourite restaurants and his opinions on Judas Priest_. No way. As far as the Andalites know, the Visser has no connection to Ax’s disappearance, nor will they have connected it to the Kelbrids, since Ax wasn’t kidnapped in Kelbrid Space. It’s _us_ who have made that connection. If Caysath is seen asking questions, his friends will want to know the reason, and he can’t bullshit them for long. The Andalites aren’t as incompetent as the Yeerks.”

“And Prince Caysath will not want to lose his position and risk being seen as the traitor who protected known criminals.” Menderash added bluntly.

I bowed my head to Marco, my sign to him that I felt he was right. He always had been smart when he wanted to be.

Santorelli wasn’t stupid, either. I could see him thinking it over, trying for some kind of loophole.

“Hey, Marco,” I smirked. “Maybe if you applied those brains to the table, you wouldn’t be losing so badly right now.”

He coughed out a laugh. “I’m planning for the comeback.”

“Sure you are…”

<So is it settled?> Tobias queried from above us. <We infiltrate the Kansas prison for a not-so-friendly talk with the Visser?>

I looked up to him, and then turned back around to see all eyes in the room staring at me. They expected me to respond, to sign on the dotted line of the contract they would all be tied up in.

It was a horrible nostalgia and I felt the anxiety of another big decision rush through my core.

But I had resigned myself to the role long ago.

“It’s settled for me,” I uttered, raising my posture to feign confidence. “Are we all in?”

There came a resounding yes from them all, though some less enthusiastic than others.

“First things first then,” I continued. “We’re going to need to get to Kansas.”

Funnily enough, that even got a blank stare from Marco. Travelling half the country without being recognised would be an issue in itself, but the mode of transport was the biggest problem of all. Suggestions flew in from around the room, and so did the negative answers.

“Our cars?”

“We can’t drive our own. Could be recognised.”

“Train?”

“Too public.”

“Plane?”

“Again, too public. Could be recognised.”

“What about my private plane?”

“None of us knows how to drive it, Marco…”

“… Walk?”

“That’s just stupid.”

All the while, Menderash had been staring at the ceiling. It was something that he often did whenever an idea was brewing in his head. I kept my eyes on him, and he didn’t fail to deliver once all the other options had been thoroughly chewed up and discarded.

“Prince Caysath mentioned that I am not known to be a Human _nothlit_. Nor would the Humans recognise me. Can’t we use this to our advantage?”

Jeanne sat up; her eyes lit sparkling in the white glow that radiated around the billiard table. “We could give you a false identity.”

<Can we do that?> Tobias asked to the room.

Marco replied. “We have, in this room, three legendary guerrilla war heroes, an Andalite in disguise, an army ranger and an agent of intelligence. Getting a fake ID should be as basic as breathing, right?”

“Oh, I can do a lot more than just get a fake ID.” Jeanne giggled.

“Really?” Marco hummed with a raised eyebrow.

“Yes,” She replied. “Medical history. Place of residence. Family and previous job experience. I will make Menderash the _complete_ Human.”

And Santorelli slotted home the winning ball.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 7**

It was going to take Jeanne a few days to organise our new identities. It was not only Menderash who would go through the process. We couldn’t risk being caught, but it was considered essential that we had those fake identities to utilise, just in case we were put in a difficult situation.

That meant that we would be hiding out in the mansion for some time. It was okay, because Marco had a pretty firm idea on when his personal staff were likely to show up and where. It was a good time for bonding and planning.

But I hated waiting. Every second wasted was a second longer for Ax under control of whatever was holding him. Whether it was Yeerks or not, he needed our help and playing video games on Marco’s widescreen felt like betrayal. I was constantly thinking over strategy, planning routes and locations and back-up plans, but nobody seemed to be looking as far ahead as I was.

Maybe they needed the time to relax. We had been searching for six months solid, and the eight months apparently in limbo had done nothing to relieve any built-up stress. I, however, needed no such thing. The nagging in my head was constant. Relaxation was a concept I lost the script for years ago.

So when I couldn’t sleep, two nights into our stay, I opened my windows to the world and looked upon the calming lights of the city. I put my clothes away and pictured the Great Horned Owl in my head.

I had learned a lot about morphing since the end of the war. I had taken up a teaching role, where I gave lessons to those privileged with the technology. Santorelli and Jeanne were of that miniscule group. It allowed me to fulfil my needs and lead others into the wacky lifestyle that I wouldn’t gift to my worst enemy.

I was better able to control the morphing process after all that dedicated practise. I left my wings till last, but spread them wide when they finally arrived and the morph was completed. The gift of flying permitted me to soar to such unwieldy heights. Urged me.

It demanded action, and I gave in. I flung my body from the window and flapped to pull myself higher into the air, above Marco’s empty driveway. With those silent wings, I turned northwards. It wouldn’t take me long to reach my destination.

The house was lifeless. It was huddled away in the shadow of a cluster of trees. The usual white walls and orange-brown roof, such a common visage in Santa Barbara, was merely a collection of greys in the night. From atop of it, I could barely make out the distinctive coastline, but the metal fencing that encircled the building was clear as day.

My house was small and hidden, but it needed that barrier nonetheless. It didn’t always work, though. I could see small pieces of trash that had been thrown over, and I was not naïve enough to ascribe it to petty passers-by.

I approached the angle in the roof. There was a small gap there that led into the attic, my usual entry point when out in bird morph. It was a tighter squeeze in owl morph, but soon enough I was in the darkened room. I demorphed beside the attic door, and made my way downstairs.

It was just how I’d left it, much to my surprise. Over a year missing and nobody had yet managed to break in and steal everything I had. I clearly didn’t put enough faith in the police force that was extremely vigilant in my area.

I turned the lights on and took in the sights of the cold abandoned living room. It was much more cramped than any of Marco’s rooms, but everything was much smaller, more subtle. The focal point was the old oak table that hosted the desktop computer. I wrote my books there, and prepared my lectures and my speeches. Behind that was a corkboard coated in paper. Notes and pictures. Newspaper clippings. There was no concise point to it all, judging from a layman’s standpoint, but all the planning made sense to me.

To the left of the cluttered desk was an old bookcase filled to the brim. Books were squeezed in so tight that whole shelves of them were effectively doomed to forever remain unmoved. I went for a closer look, wiping a finger across a piece of shelving and returning it to find a thick layer of dust had settled. The books of great leaders and terrible wars were showing their signs of age. I had books on the World Wars, the American Civil War, Abraham Lincoln and Winston Churchill. Great leaders and heroic triumphs. They were icons that I would try to emulate. The cause of obsession was not something I ever dwelled on, but I indulged on it beyond what any normal mind would.

I tried to justify myself by comparison. They all had their detractors, some more so than others. War was never clean, and solutions never without consequence. But those heroes rode to victories on their moral courage; the will to do what they thought was right and what was just. They could argue their detractors and come out proud. History spoke well of them.

I turned away from the bookshelf and the computer. My feet took me past the television that hugged the corner of the room and the stack of decaying newspapers that lay on the coffee table. My short trip brought me through two sets of doors to the other side of the house. My bedroom.

The old clock that would be a dominating feature had stopped long ago. It cast a shadow over the bed that I would rarely use for more than three hours each day. In front of the bed, and to my immediate left as I entered, was an antique set of drawers, topped with a mirror. It held various items, including clothing accessories such as personalised cufflinks and ties; things needed whenever I was required to make a special appearance.

There was one drawer that I would refrain from opening, despite it being central to the antique, the keystone piece. I stared it down long and hard, my breathing becoming shallower as I felt it call to me. I tried to walk away, but something in me refused.

My hand drifted forward and clung to the handle. I opened it up.

Medals. A substantial number of them. They glowed in the brightness of the room, shone up to me like so many little lighthouse beacons. Most were circular pieces of gold adorned with brightly colours straps of fabric that were meant to hold them to me. Other items were present, in all different shapes and sizes, all huddled at the bottom of the deep container, but they each carried the same message of thanks.

For others, they were signs of good intention. For me, they were each a little reminder. Each a memory of every little move and every major decision.

I reached down and recovered a few of the smaller ones, bringing them out of their home to take a closer look.

_Jake Berenson. Hero of the Yeerk War._

_Jake Berenson. Courageous and Strong._

_Jake Berenson. Thank you._

But in the gold I saw something else. In one, I saw the seventeen-thousand Yeerks.

_Jake Berenson. Criminal of the Yeerk War._

In another, I saw the face of every soul I had killed throughout those years. Not the Yeerks, but the hosts that they enslaved. The innocent lives I took that never had a say in the actions of their owners. I saw the Auxiliaries and their demise, too.

_Jake Berenson. Careless and Inept._

And in the last, I saw Tom.

_Jake Berenson._

I dropped them back in and closed the drawer firmly. I didn’t need to see them.

_It wasn’t a mistake_ , I repeated to myself, exhaling deeply and running a hand over my face. _War is never clean_.

I got out of there and returned to the living room, whereupon I fired up the desktop computer. I poured myself a drink and started to busy my mind again. It was enough to distract me. I brought up a regular word file and began to type in my latest in a long line of decisions. This time, I wouldn’t make a mistake. I couldn’t.


	9. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

I left for a place I had never visited before, deep in the heart of Santa Barbara where I rarely visited. I put on a big jacket, a pair of reading glasses that I didn’t actually need for reading, and a beanie. All this, combined with my thick beard, achieved a pretty convincing disguise. I was not Jake Berenson, anymore. I was just another somebody heading to the watering hole.

It was dark out, but the dutiful street lamps guided me through. People passed, but nobody took any notice, even those who breezed by so close that I could smell the expensive perfumes.

I arrived at my destination and strolled through the doorway. The heat of the establishment was a little overbearing, but I would refuse to remove my jacket, such was my awareness of being recognised. Granted, I didn’t spot anybody that I knew. With that relief, I made a straight line for the bar.

The clink of glasses and the chatter of the people was a very welcome familiarity. I took my place on a stool and clasped my hands together on the counter, awaiting service. It came quickly, the bartender instantly spotting a new face.

“Good evening.” The well-groomed man said.

“Evening,” I replied, adding a slight gruffness to my voice. “Double-shot of your best whiskey, please. No ice.”

He did as I expected any bartender to do. He looked me over and decided that I didn’t look particularly old. “Do you have any ID, sir?”

Without hesitation I reached a hand to my back pocket and retrieved my new second-hand wallet. I bypassed the pocket full of old receipts that weren’t mine and found the slot where my driving license was kept. I handed it to the bartender, who took a quick glance and decided it was enough evidence. “Thank you.” He uttered, and I retrieved the license.

Callum Robinson was a bit embarrassed by the less-than-flattering mug shot, so he hated showing his ID.

That was the story. That was who I was to the world. Self-employed. I recently bought a new place just a couple towns away. My favourite colour was green, and I broke my right leg when I was fifteen years old.

My drink was delivered and I clutched at the tumbler lovingly. Then I lifted it, placed my nose over the rim of the glass and was lavished with the scent. I had missed that old friend.

Sitting alone at the bar, I watched the rest of the clientele go about their business. As the night progressed, some familiar though unacquainted faces appeared. People that I had seen on television or in big important gatherings. There was just one that I had spoken to before, and our eyes met for one brief moment, but he turned away.

I started to wonder when I would next be able to speak to somebody as myself. Would Jake Berenson forever be an unsolved mystery to the world?

Yes. Yes, somehow, we would come back. We would rescue Ax and bring him home. Surely, our crimes would be forgiven.

Were our crimes really so unforgivable?

I gave up wondering in the end. Only reality would really answer those questions, and that could wait a while longer. Tomorrow, we were going to make plans and head to Kansas. Our rest was done, and the first step in the restarted mission was about to commence.

I got up steadily, accepting that I wouldn’t be as stable as earlier. Two hours had passed, and I had barely moved from my contemplative, thirsty state. I thanked the bartender, who had been giving me suspicious looks the entire night, and began to make my journey home.

The air outside had grown colder as the night aged. Human activity had lessened such that I was the only soul moving around on that street. My hands fell into my jacket pockets, and I walked away into the dark.

I must have made it halfway through my journey. The street lights were less intimidating, and the noise of distant social gatherings had died down to little more than a whisper. I thought that I was alone, but I was soon proven wrong.

Up in the distance, I could make out a figure. It was indistinguishable at the time, because I was quite far away.

Too far away for the second person to see me as he jumped out in front of the first. I instantly sensed something wrong and hugged myself to the hedge I was walking by.

I couldn’t make out what they were saying, but the body language of the one that had jumped out was definitely threatening. The other, wearing a long coat, was turning sideways as if about to move in the opposite direction.

My instinct was to act, so my legs carried me silently forward. They began to run when the long-coated man finally tried to retreat. The attacker grabbed the man by the arm, and then the collar of his clothing, pushing him back against the wall they were beside.

Then he pulled back a fist and clobbered the elderly man in the face. He groaned loudly, but could do little to resist.

The mugger started to pull at the man’s coat, stealing from him a small item that I assumed to be his wallet.

Then he noticed me running at him. It was his cue to leave, but I had the momentum. I sped past the old man who was now crumpled on the sidewalk, reached forward and grabbed hold of the thief’s coat before he could take a right turn onto another street.

He turned and took a swing at me, but it wasn’t accurate and deflected off of my chest. I gave a punch of my own and cracked him in the jaw. I hit him so hard that I gasped from the pain that surged through my hand.

It wasn’t enough. He barged heavily into me, and he wasn’t a small guy by any standard. I stumbled back as a sudden twist caused me to lose my grip.

A slam to my face! He had returned fire. I was knocked back against the wall, but in the blindness of adrenaline I pushed myself back forward, clenching my hand into a fist, ready for the next attack.

But I was hit again, and suddenly everything was a blur. I wasn’t big enough. Not strong enough.

But I pictured muscles in my head. The muscles of the tiger, something so effortlessly strong.

The blurriness faded, just as I saw another fist destined to black me out. I dodged with such speed, and his knuckles cracked painfully on the wall where my head had been. The guy screamed out in agony and recoiled, clutching at his broken hand.

I felt the ferocity of the big cat coursing through me. The confidence, the power! I recalled that power, and it emerged.

I bulked out with tiger muscles and growled with an inhuman throatiness. The guy’s eyes widened. He had no idea what was about to hit him. Literally.

My fist came forward and connected with his cheek. He flew back, blacked out at the very moment our skins collided. His body collapsed to the ground, and he wouldn’t be getting up for a while.

I reversed what morphing I had done and gasped out, realising that I still felt immense pain in my hand and face. Then I remembered the elderly man.

I searched over the body that lay breathing on the ground and found the stolen wallet. I leapt to my feet and ran back a few metres to where the poor guy was still groaning. He looked up to me, and even though he was in pain he smiled, his eyes bright. I offered my hands and I helped him steadily to his feet, giving him his wallet.

“T-thank you,” He stuttered, barely able to contain his smile. “Thank you so much! I don’t know how t-to thank you more!”

I shook my head. “There’s no need, sir. We need to call the cops.”

“Oh. Oh yes.” He replied. While he knocked on the nearest door to call the cops, I went back over to the thief and dragged him away from the road and to the wall.

He would be hurting for a few days, at least. A broken hand for sure. A broken nose and probably something else to add to that.

He wore grubby, dirty clothes that were all either too big or too small, and the smell that rose from him was certainly not the perfume of the locals.

He looked homeless. A man that had nothing in this world. A desperate man that had stooped so low that he had dedicated himself to theft.

Now he had no money. And a broken nose.

I waited by his side with the elderly man. He never rose back to consciousness, even as the cops arrived at the scene. At least, he would now have a new home to stay in.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 9**

Marco frowned as he leant against his bar’s surface, the drink he had just poured himself wrapped in his tapping fingers. He was clearly troubled by what we had discussed so far. “Hey, wait a second. That control room is too far away from the main complex.”

He pointed to the layout of the Kansas prison that Jeanne had somehow gotten her hands on. A history of confidential investigations and governmental computer hacks had made it a pretty simple job for her to retrieve detailed plans on the entirety of the facilities. We could see the size of every door, the length of each hallway and the dimensions of each cell. The facility was massive, a population well over a thousand, which would obviously include a majority of prisoners.

We were surprised to find that it was no longer a maximum security prison. It had been downgraded to medium security while we were absent. We weren’t complaining, but we also knew not to assume it would make things easier.

Our first task, as we sat around the map in Marco’s lounge (or whatever you would call it) was to pinpoint the key areas we would need to be active in. That was what Marco was concerned about. He had one finger on the layout map pointing to the building that contained the controls to the Visser’s block. He moved another finger to the block itself, a highly secure building about halfway across the entire facility. “I don’t think it’s close enough…”

Jeanne nodded. “You’re correct. The control room is deliberately far from the high security block. That is why we need somebody here.” She pointed her own finger to a building that was roughly halfway between the control room and the Visser.

“On the roof?” I said, sitting back on my stool. “I’m not sure I like that idea.”

Jeanne seemed to understand, but she continued to explain the other option. “Going inside the building is taking another risk. If the guards get suspicious, they will lock those doors, and there is no good place inside to morph.”

“But might they get suspicious of a bird on the roof for so long?”

Marco huffed up a laugh. “What kind of weird universe are we living in where a bird on a roof is suspicious?”

“Ours, unfortunately…” I replied.

“It has the least risk, so I think it’s better.” Jeanne reasoned, tapping her long fingernail on that central building.

“Agreed.” Marco said.

I looked up from the map that I had stared at for so long that my eyes were beginning to ache. What I saw, behind Marco as he perched on his own bar, was Santorelli looking unusually conflicted. Till that point, I would have expected more contributions to the plan from him, but I realised that I was wrong when he turned away, unable to keep eye contact.

“And,” Jeanne continued, waving a hand horizontally in the air. “We have somebody up here.”

“So we have an outer observer – Tobias – keeping an overview,” I summarised. “And we have somebody planted near the centre of the facility to keep constant communications, in case somebody goes out of range.”

“Who?” Marco asked.

I was quick to my decision. “Sarge.”

Marco didn’t look convinced. “Are you sure, man?”

“I’m sure.”

Marco gave me an indication that he trusted my decision. He knew when I was certain, and certain I was.

“That leaves three of us.” I stated to Jeanne.

“Yes,” She agreed. “I think we should have one here.” Her finger moved to the control room.

“One person in the security block, then,” Marco nodded. “Are we pushing the buttons?”

Jeanne responded. “No, Marco. We will be there at 7AM. That is when the Visser is checked for the first time. A guard will be operating the doors, and you watch. You will say when the doors are being opened and closed.”

“So that’s my job?”

“Do you want it?”

A sly grin appeared on him. “Anything for you.”

Jeanne rolled her eyes. “Now is not the time, Marco… I have looked at the Visser’s schedule. His is different to other prisoners, and the procedures are different. That is why the doors are controlled from so far away.”

“And that leaves us two.” I mentioned.

Jeanne tapped on the Visser’s block. “You and me. If one of us gets stuck behind a closing door, then hopefully another won’t. We go as fly. We follow the guards that check on the Visser and stay when they leave. We will disable the camera, then question the Visser.”

“And when we’ve got what we want?” Marco pressed.

Jeanne smiled. “We go. Somebody will come to fix the security camera, and we fly out with them. Everybody leaves their post, and we go home.”

Marco rubbed at his facial hair and raised an eyebrow. “How long till they figure out their camera’s dead?”

Jeanne shrugged. “You will tell us. The guard in the control room will see that it is broken. When he does, you will tell us.”

“Or the mission fails,” I concluded. “Could be sussed in a minute, could be an hour.”

“As soon as the guard spots it, you tell us,” Jeanne firmly reinstated, hammering home the seriousness of the message. “Can you do that?”

Marco smiled back to her. “No problem. You can count on me. How about I pour you a drink to celebrate?”

Jeanne gave him a sideways glance. “Maybe if you do your job well, we will all have a drink to celebrate a good day’s work.”

I shook my head, hiding from him a knowing smile. With the initial plan laid out, we could establish it with the others. Santorelli had already listened to a lot of it, but he had remained nearby, watching from a distance. I noticed him and finally approached, taking my place at the counter.

“Seems like a pretty solid plan,” He said to me when I leaned up at the bar beside him. “Jeanne’s got brains. A lot of ‘em.”

“I think Marco would be jealous,” I replied. “If he wasn’t so desperate to date her.”

“Yeah. I see that. Monkey man just ain’t got the moves.” Santorelli said.

“Sarge,” I sighed. “When you first came along with us… I get that you wanted to help me out because I had taught you the last few months.” 

He stiffened up, raising his shoulders. “Boss, I’ve been in US army since the day I left school. Wanted to be like my Dad. He always told me to fight for what’s good, and fight for my country. Then the Yeerks killed him, and I told myself that the good thing - the thing I could do for my country - was to kick them right square in the balls. To go with you was my chance to set the record straight with these cocksuckers.”

“You still have that chance.” I suggested.

He looked off into the distance with a firm gaze. “Doing this means that I’m fuckin’ around my own country, the guys I said I’d die for.”

There was no easy answer I could give him. “Sarge, it’s up to you. You’re not being forced into this.”

“I said yes to this,” He spoke with his trademark sternness. “I made up my mind a while ago. Doesn’t mean I won’t do what I think is right, even if it fucks me in the process.”

We stayed around in Marco’s room for a while, going over some of the more minor details in the plan. I watched Santorelli throughout, judging his reactions and his facial expressions, seeing exactly where he was becoming conflicted and where his determination would be at its strongest.

He had dedicated his life to me when he agreed to board _The Rachel_. Now, his dedication to me was ordering him to break the laws of the nation that he grew up wishing to protect.

But I saw motivation in him. He had told me previously about how his father lost his life to the Yeerks. Santorelli was not the sort to forgive those who took his one remaining family member from him, and when his opportunity came along to avenge both his father and his country, he couldn’t refuse.

Nevertheless, I couldn’t ignore his inner battle. I wouldn’t trust him in Marco’s position, nor in my own or Tobias’. I wasn’t going to tell him, but on this particular mission, I wanted him in a less stressful role. I had enough faith that his discipline and willingness to avenge his father would pull him through.

His occasional steely glances of fortitude only served to add to my confidence in him.

<Guys!>

Up till then, our conversations had been subdued and calm. The sudden burst of Tobias’ thought-speak in our heads caused us all to jerk out of our slumped positions. The Red-Tailed Hawk flapped in through the open window and immediately began to preen his feathers.

<We’re back.> He uttered.

We all jumped to our feet and moved to the window, large enough for us all to gaze out onto Marco’s driveway.

“You’d better have bought something good,” Marco warned Tobias. “You’re not the kind of bird I’d usually trust to buy a car.”

<It’s not a car.> Tobias rebutted.

As we looked down past the windowsill, we spotted Menderash gawking back at us, hand over his eyes to block out the Sun. Behind him was our brand new RV.

“You’re right,” Marco replied. “It’s a dump.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 10**

It wasn’t going to win any beauty contests. That was for certain. It shuddered and shook whenever it went above sixty and there was a funny smell that nobody could quite place. Nobody thought it could take us all the way from Santa Barbara to Kansas City, but we were defiant enough to try.

The Winnebago was found in some dodgy second-hand lot, and it sure showed. Menderash and Tobias explained that it was for subtlety reasons. I got what they were saying, but maybe they were being over-paranoid.

Santorelli was the poor soul who was skilled enough to drive it. He had driven large vehicles before, so we gave him the keys and a map and full use of the old cassette player. The rest of us loaded up what we needed for the journey and set up camp in the admittedly spacious interior.

The seats had been removed. That’s what made it spacious. Nevertheless, we used our innovation and took some fold-out chairs from Marco’s storage.

So it wasn’t the most comfortable journey for anybody. With almost two-thousand miles to travel, as well, it was a long haul. Having settled on a day to carry out the mission, we were also a little rushed.

At least we had a pack of cards to keep us amused.

We had just had our last stop before reaching our destination. A bag of McDonalds each was reward for nobody losing their temper over the last leg. It was almost as if we’d resigned ourselves to being unbearably uncomfortable over the next few days - assuming we would be able to escape the prison. We also bought some extra food for later with the wad of money that Marco had brought along. We would need high energy levels at the start of the mission.

We would park a few miles from the prison and stay inside the RV overnight. In the morning, we would morph bird and fly the rest of the distance to the prison. We didn’t want our vehicle associated with any incidents that might occur.

The mission would start shortly before 7AM, when guards were due to enter the Visser’s cell. Any later than that and we would be hanging around till Midday. Nobody wanted that.

We hadn’t done anything like this for so long. Years. The risks we were about to take were big enough that nerves were beginning to kick in. In morph, we could be shot by any of the armed guards or – In mine and Jeanne’s case – crushed as we tried to enter the Visser’s block. Marco had perhaps the hardest job of them all: He had to get into the security block’s control room and witness everything happening without being spotted. To do that, he was going take advantage of a wide-shaft ventilation system, part of which travelled over the control room.

Our layout plans showed us that it stood almost directly above the control panel used for the Visser’s block. Marco would be in the ventilation system, listening, watching, and hoping not to be spotted. He was integral to our mission.

And despite the years playing up to cameras and running crappy game shows, I still felt that he had it in him to carry out his role.

Not that my role wasn’t going to be demanding. Having the plans in front of me made me even more anxious, but for different reasons.

Jeanne and I were side by side at the coffee mug-stained Winnebago fold-out table. Menderash – or Eddy Jameson, as the outside world now knew him - was opposite us, frowning with piercing eyes at a large sheet of paper that nestled between us. He had been silent for a while as he studied it.

There was a reason that we were leaving the studying to him. On the paper was an annotated diagram of a very peculiar type of box. It was an Andalite construction, as no Human at the time had the technology or the knowledge to build such a contraption. It was built with a very specific, very alien purpose in mind.

It was Esplin’s new home. Not new anymore, I guess. He’d been living in boxes like it since the end of the Yeerk war. It was small, no larger than one of those boxes that you take your cat to the vet in, but a whole lot more complicated. The Yeerk would be in a small container of Yeerkish water, the sort that would have been found in your typical Yeerk pool when those things were still around.

Aside from that, the box had a control panel. That was what Menderash was looking to exploit.

“It’s just as I thought…” He mumbled, still focused on the images before him. “Okay. I know what you need to do.”

“Let’s hear it.” I replied, shifting forward to rest on the rickety table.

He reached to his right, finally taking his eyes off the picture, and grabbed the pen and blank paper that had been waiting patiently at the side. He was going to write down the instructions he was giving to me and Jeanne.

He illustrated with finger-pointing in between writing. “This button here will activate the control panel. That will give you full access to all the settings,” He waved his hand over a set of 5 small buttons running horizontally over the lowest edge of the control panel. “These will take you into various interfaces. The leftmost one contains communication controls.”

“That’s what we want…” I hummed.

Menderash continued to point out bits of the control panel for specific instructions. “This one activates his side of communications. It uses Andalite technology that allows his thoughts to be processed into speech, which will come out of _this_ speaker. _This_ button will activate the panel microphone. So both these buttons activated will allow two-way communication. Pressing those buttons again will turn it off, or you could just press the main power button, alternatively…”

“We need more than that,” Jeanne said. “The Visser isn’t going to give us answers for nothing.”

I closed my eyes, knowing what was coming.

“Of course,” Menderash agreed. He pointed to different buttons. “This one here brings up the box’s environment interface. It controls the conditions of the kandrona water. If the Visser refuses to give answers, we can try to force them out of him.”

“Menderash…” I sighed, looking him directly in the eyes. I could see that he held little remorse; such was his hatred of the Visser. “We will do whatever we can to get our answers without resorting to that.”

His expression was unchanging. “I understand that this kind of interrogation is a last resort, Prince Jake. But it is a resort nonetheless, and I think it’s best that every option is open.”

I nodded, still staring. “Okay. I hope it doesn’t come to it.”

He continued. “Yeerks are very temperature-sensitive. If we can threaten to raise the box’s temperature, it may get answers out of him. However, the box will be set with default temperature limits to avoid accidental overheating. Pressing _this_ button, then _these_ two simultaneously, will remove that limit. You can adjust the temperature freely up to four-hundred-and-eighty degrees.”

Jeanne’s eyebrows raised and she pursed her lips. She was not comfortable, but her lack of words made her thoughts elusive.

But she would do little more than ask questions and provide me with back-up. I would make sure that I was in control of the box. It was the job that I gave myself.

Suddenly, I began to doubt everything. We could do this mission, but did I really want to?

_For Ax_ , I told myself, over and over. _For Ax._


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 11**

We parked the RV on the outskirts of Kansas City, in an inconspicuous location near a local diner. We didn’t venture inside, preferring to be unseen. The McDonalds food we had saved up was enough to keep our bodies satisfied for the night, though we were starting to get fed up with it.

Needless to say, sleep wasn’t coming along easily. On the eve of a mission, camped up in the most uncomfortable Winnebago that ever existed, I don’t think I even fell asleep once. By the time the alarm rang to wake us all, I had already given up. It wasn’t just me.

Lack of sleep wouldn’t make us reconsider, though. We were there for a reason, and the tiredness did nothing to deter us. We ate the last of our food for breakfast and I was given coffee duty. The RV was mostly silent as we prepared. By that point, we had all revised our roles inside and out. It was probably one of the most professional missions I had ever been involved in.

Says a lot, doesn’t it?

The time came around, and even if we didn’t feel entirely ready, we had to make our move. Tobias, who had already taken to the skies, watched over our RV as we all morphed bird within.

Birds of prey, to be precise. Thankfully, most of our morphs were native to the area, with the exception of Jeanne’s, but who was going to notice?

One by one, we left the RV, with Tobias making sure that we weren’t being watched. Once out into the sky, we would ensure that we didn’t cluster, spreading out widely across the Kansas City sky. I was the last to leave.

I ruffled my wings as I looked out of the open door. Menderash was standing to the side, looking as stone-faced as ever.

“Prince Jake, I wish you luck, though I don’t think you’ll need it.” He spoke to me.

<Thanks, Mendy. Say, why don’t you use Marco’s money to get us some after-mission dinner? Something other than McDonalds?>

He frowned at me. “I thought we weren’t to be seen.”

<One person ordering food can’t hurt. Just don’t go making a scene.>

“I promise not to, Prince Jake.”

With that, I spread my wings and leapt from the RV door and upwards into the dawn sky. Far in the distance I could make out a couple other birds of prey. I tested our thought-speak range, and though they were faint, they were all present and ready.

<Okay, let’s go to prison!> I called.

<I think we’d be the first to say that willingly.> Santorelli retorted.

The five of us headed onwards. It was only about a five mile distance and we had left with plenty of time, so there was no need to rush. It was a steady flight.

Then we spotted the prison. It was a collection of buildings forming one large, walled square. The front end was made up by the largest of the buildings and the main entrance. It was vast and narrow, but it opened up into the rest of the facility behind it, a number of cell blocks and various other structures. We saw the open areas where the prisoners would mingle, but nobody was present at the time.

I recalled the layout that we had revised over. I could make out the Visser’s cell block. It was nothing impressive. I also saw the security block where Marco would be entering.

<Bigger than it looks on paper.> Marco analysed.

<It’s big, alright!> Santorelli added.

They were both hovering nearby on my right. I peeled away slightly to keep some distance. A prison holding a Yeerk Visser would be a little more observant than the average civilian, and we were close enough to be seen.

<It’s all in the plan,> Jeanne reassured. <As long as we have somebody in the centre, we will keep within speaking distance.>

<We all know what we’re doing,> I added. <We stick to the plan and we don’t make ourselves known. We’ll get out of this.>

Marco chuckled. <I miss hearing you getting all _Mr Leadership_. Don’t you worry about us, man. You just concentrate on getting the answers we want.>

I would have rolled my eyes, if I weren’t in morph and looking out for suspicious watchmen. <And remember, this isn’t like before. These are innocent prison guards. We don’t want to tear this place up.>

<Hear you loud and clear.> Santorelli responded. It was his greatest concern going into the mission, and I wanted to reassure him that that was a firm message to everybody.

I added, <No causalities. No battle morphs. There are innocent people in there.>

<That never stopped us before…>

I looked upwards, to Tobias where the voice had come from. His snarky remark had caught me by surprise, and his timing couldn’t have been worse. It stuck in my mind.

Nevertheless, I said nothing in return. It really wasn’t the right time. I had to concentrate on the mission at hand. <Tobias, I trust you to keep a close eye on the facility without looking out-of-place. The rest of us need to go down one-by-one. Can’t have four different birds of prey landing in the prison at the same time.>

<Gotcha, boss!> Santorelli called with a military firmness.

<Sarge, you’re first,> I ordered. <You know where to go.>

The Golden Eagle instantly turned and descended downwards. The rest of us watched as he approached, looking like any old regular bird of prey.

He landed exactly where he needed to: atop the building exactly halfway between the security block and the Visser’s block. He was out of the sight of anybody on the ground, and he had landed behind a ridge that blocked him from the main entrance building. He would likely still be seen from the larger northern buildings and the northern guard towers, but as long as he remained looking just like any other eagle deciding to visit a prison, he should have been okay.

<Tobias? Can you hear me, buddy?> He asked. He needed solid communication with every one of us.

<I can hear you, Sarge. I won’t drift out of range.> Came Tobias’ reply.

With Santorelli in place, it was time for the rest of us to descend. Marco was next. He flew down to what we knew was the security block and was quick to disappear from sight behind a vent.

<Marco’s in!> Santorelli called up.

<Are you ready, Jake?> Jeanne asked me.

<Always ready,> I lied. <Follow a minute or so after me.>

With the slightest flick of the feathers of my wings, I turned downwards. The Visser’s block was in sight, a very new building that sat alone along the west edge of the facility, split apart from the rest by metal fencing. Behind the block was a small storage shack, some trash cans either side. That was my demorph point.

I turned in the air to bring an easier landing. <Okay to land?> I called out to Santorelli.

<Looks good!> He replied. <Nobody alert.>

I zoomed down into the facility, my left wing almost flicking against the barbed wire to my left. I landed with a slight bounce on my feet in front of the storage shack. I squeezed past the trash can on the left, and found myself an enclosed space to demorph.

<I’m in!>


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 12**

The space was a little more cramped than it appeared to be in my falcon eyes. I demorphed and almost knocked the trash can over. I had to pull my knees hard into my chest to keep fully hidden. Tobias and Santorelli wouldn’t be able to see everything, so I couldn’t be sure if some stray guard wasn’t just metres away.

I didn’t even risk a whisper to Jeanne, who I’d heard on the opposite side of the shack. Nor could I communicate with Santorelli. Thankfully, he didn’t stop talking.

<I’m not seein’ anybody, boss. Tobias has a better view of the block, and he doesn’t see anybody, neither. You’re good.>

I took a few deep breaths. Morphing a falcon was something I had almost gotten used to over the years. The fly, however, was something I’d never grow accustomed to.

I would have feared for Jeanne screaming out in horror. But morphing insect was one of the first lessons I had taught her. And she seemed to have a natural gift.

And so the changes began. I kept my eyes open, too paranoid of unseen prison guards to close them. I had to watch my body transform in one of the most sickening ways, and having some control over the order of things wasn’t going to make it any more graceful.

Firstly, I needed to shrink. The trash can that shielded me against the wall of the shack suddenly started to tower over me like some vast bland architecture. The ground approached, like I was falling in slow motion. My little space was quickly becoming comfortable. Then it was the size of my bedroom, then a dining hall, then a football stadium…

New appendages shot out of me. First, the wings. The transparent, veiny fly wings that lay flat over my back. Not a second later, two black hairy legs spurted from either side of my abdomen. I could have vomited if my entire mouth and throat apparatus hadn’t become distinctly non-human.

I left the proboscis till last, letting my body pinch into clear segments beforehand. My eyes stopped being rotating spheres inside of my head, and became the many fixed eyes that had such strange and confusing vision. The world around me became a wall of television sets that only the insect mind could decipher.

Finally, what remained of my mouth shot forward into a horrible, sucking tube. The arrival of the proboscis signalled the end of the morphing process.

<I’m fly,> I announced to Jeanne and Santorelli. <Jeanne?>

<Nearly finished!> She called back chirpily. I’m sure she didn’t feel chirpy.

Santorelli replied, <Marco says he’s in position. He just morphed skunk and he’s sittin’ in the ventilation. The time is 6:52, accordin’ to the Block’s control panel. There’s a guard posted at the panel.>

It was just as we had planned. <Okay, Sarge. We’ll get into position. Can you see the entrance to the Visser’s block?>

<I can see the top of the door, boss!>

<Good enough,> I responded. <Think you could spot a couple flies from where you are?>

His pause made me somewhat anxious. <Maybe. Tobias could swoop over without gaining much attention.>

<Send him a message,> I instructed. <When I give the signal, I want him to fly low enough to see if we’re beside the main door to the block. No lower, and no hanging around. We need him in the skies, and we need you to remain posted where you are.>

<Gotcha.>

I was taking a bit more risk than I would have liked, but Jeanne and I needed to know that we were in the right place. The fly’s vision wasn’t strong enough to be a-hundred-percent certain.

<Jeanne, you ready?> I asked.

<Yes! I am ready! Shall we find each other first?>

<Yeah. Probably not the best idea to morph flies around these trash cans…>

The fly wanted to explore the smelly area we had morphed in, but both Jeanne and I were capable and experienced enough to override the fly brain. I set off out of my temporary hiding place and into the bright light of the outside world.

We may have only been a few metres apart, but that was enormous as a fly.

<Tobias is in position!> Santorelli announced. <Ready for your signal.>

<Not yet,> I grumbled, flying down to the ground after a pathetic attempt to locate Jeanne. <Okay, Jeanne, I think it’s best if one of us stays still. Where are you?>

<I believe I am on the waste disposal, Jake.> Her tone wasn’t the most convincing.

<Metal?>

<Yes, Jake. It is.>

With that clue, I shot back up into the air. She couldn’t have moved far from her side of the shack where the other trash can lived. <Could you walk down to the ground? I’ll meet you at the base of the trash can.>

I kept within the dim sunlight, but alongside the wall to my right that I assumed to be the storage shack. Moments later, that wall turned away ninety degrees to my right. I spotted what looked to be her trash can and flew over in the clumsy motion of an erratic flying insect.

Coming to the base of the trash can, it didn’t take me long to find a second fly.

<Is that you, Jake?>

<Hope so,> I replied. <Let’s go.>

Jeanne followed me up into the air, giving enough indication that I had found the correct fly. I knew which direction to fly in to get to the Visser’s block, and then it was simply a case of following the wall to the corner and around to the door. Once we had zipped around long enough in the right direction, we hit a flat wall. I stayed there briefly as Jeanne landed beside me. Then we headed along the wall.

It was a big building, at least as far as the fly was concerned, so it was a long while just bouncing along the dull grey wall.

<Boss?> Santorelli spoke up, concern in his voice. <You getting’ there?>

<Yeah, we’re on the move.>

<Don’t wanna panic you,> He started. <But the guards are on the way.>

<Damn it! What time is it?!> I called. My bouncing off of the wall to keep on the right track was abandoned, and I started heading as straight as possible. Jeanne followed my example.

<7:01. Marco’s… Marco’s sayin’ that they’re ready to open the doors. The guards are almost there!>

<Jeanne!> I shouted to her. <We need to move!>

She had already foreseen the issue and didn’t necessarily need my words. She was speeding along beside me.

<Waiting on your signal, Jake!> Santorelli urged.

I had no idea how close we were to the corner of the building and the doors. It could have been inches, could have been meters. I made a snap decision.

<Sarge, swoop now! Tell Tobias to swoop now!>


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 13**

We hadn’t considered how long it would take to get to the door in fly morph. It meant that we were already having issues. Jeanne and I dashed as fast as our fly bodies were capable.

Then Tobias came close enough to hear him. <-see anything!>

<Boss!> Santorelli called, overlapping Tobias’ faint voice. <Marco can see two guards on camera by the door!>

<I’m coming down!> Tobias announced.

He was going to duck down close to the block. He was supposed to do that before any guards were there. And we still hadn’t found the corner of the building that we needed to turn.

It was too big a risk to take.

<No, Tobias! Get out of there! Don’t come down!>

<We can’t see you, Jake!> He replied.

<Don’t come down!>

<Jake!> Jeanne called. <Just keep going!>

<I’m clear, Jake,> Tobias informed, his voice growing faint again. <Heading back up.>

My mind was buzzing almost as much as my morph. <Sarge, I want reports from Marco. Now!>

A short pause. <Doors open, boss!>

<Keep the reports coming!> I ordered, getting frustrated. <I want to know exactly what’s going on!>

The corner! The wall to our left vanished, and that meant we were nearly there! We were just a couple meters from the door.

<Guards are getting’ inside, boss! Door’s about to be closed!>

Jeanne and I spent no time congratulating ourselves on finding the corner. We just turned around it and rushed on. We had seconds, and little more.

<Door’s closing!>

I saw it! A change in light, a hole in the wall we were zipping across! The direction of the surface we were following changed. But it was moving. The door was closing!

<Get in!> I yelled to Jeanne. After turning the corner, she had drifted behind. The distance between us alarmed me.

Towards the darkness I flew, with no care to what lay beyond and the walls that were rapidly coming at me from either side. One bad flick of the wings, and I could be crushed.

<Jeanne?! Boss?!> Santorelli called with alarm.

I zipped into the darkness. A huge gust of air current whipped me forward and then back around. I bounced against the door, but the change of atmosphere around me was evidence enough that I had made it. <Sarge! I’m in!>

<You made it?> I heard Jeanne ask. She sounded surprised.

<Yeah. I did…> I replied, waiting to hear her confirmation of what I suspected.

It came quickly. <I’m still outside. The door closed.>

I would have sighed, if flies were capable. <Okay… Looks like I’m moving in on my own.>

<I might be able to find another way in.> Jeanne suggested.

<We discussed that,> I pointed out. <You might find a way in, but you don’t know where you’ll end up. Not worth the risk.>

<I’ll go back around the side of the building.> She replied.

<Yeah. Head back to the trash cans. You can demorph there if something goes wrong.>

It was aggravating that things had already gone awry, but everybody was still safe and nobody had been seen. Besides, there were two of us heading into the block just in case a situation such as this one arose. The mission was still going ahead.

<Boss,> Santorelli started again. <Can you see the guards?>

I was still on the wall when he began asking, but was off again when he finished. I found what I assumed to be an item of clothing and dived down for it.

Something rocketed past me! The rush of air sent me tumbling, but I regained composure and latched onto the moving fabric. The arm that had swung past did so again, so I walked along the guard’s clothing to a safer location. I assumed it was safer, anyway.

<I’m on one of the guards. What does Marco see?>

<He says the guards are movin’. Headin’ towards the second door.>

Back on plan, and I could breathe easily again. <Sarge, I’m on my own here now. I’m counting on you to tell me everything from now on without me asking.>

Maybe he sensed the frustration in my voice, but somebody with his background would have had plenty of experience with frustrated leaders before, and I didn’t receive any angered or snarky groans. Despite my worries pre-mission, his discipline was coming through.

<The guard in the control room is keepin’ in contact with the guards where you are. Looks like they’re about to open the next set of doors.>

<Many staff in here?> I asked, conscious about my security on the next step of the mission.

He paused, presumably to talk with Marco. <We can’t see the entire facility. Some corners are out of sight of the cameras, but apart from the two guards checkin’ up on the Visser, the place seems deserted.>

<Good,> I commented. <That makes me feel a little better.>

<Things seem pretty clear out here, too, boss,> Santorelli stated. <And we ain’t expectin’ much activity for about an hour.>

So I waited as the reports came in, all the while looking around with confusing fly eyes as the fabric stretched and bunched around me with the guard’s walking.

<They’re sortin’ out some papers, accordin’ to Marco…> Santorelli mentioned.

I thought it was taking some time. The movement of the guard had slowed. I refused to move, sensing that any slight adjustment in my position could get me swiped away, or worse.

Then the movement began once more.

<Walkin’ again. Comin’ up to the next door. Looks like they got the papers they need.>

<Lots of papers?>

<… Not easy to tell by the camera. Marco doesn’t think they’ll be in there too long.>

The movement around me increased further, as if the guard was ruffling his clothing. A big fold almost threw me off, but the claws on my six sticky legs held me tight. I was getting increasingly worried.

<Control room guard is just checkin’… Nope, he’s openin’ the door. The door’s openin’!>

I couldn’t sense anything from the world around me. The door was too far to affect the air directly around me, and the guard had stopped moving. However, I knew Marco wasn’t being delusional. One more door to go after passing through this one, and I would be in the same room as Esplin 9466, an enemy for so long. A strange dread started to come over me.

The guard started to move again. I waited, and waited…

<Sarge!>

<Guards are movin’ through, boss!>

I hated the feeling. I despised the fact that I was going to have to repeat myself. <You need to be telling me about these things! I’m blind as a bat here!>

<Sorry, boss!>

He was a key component, and yet he had to be chastised. Orders were being repeated. I expected more from an Army Ranger, and I was growing deeply apprehensive that his inner conflict was clouding his mind.

Or maybe I was overthinking it. Maybe I was too paranoid of mistakes being made.

Mistakes couldn’t be made. Not during this mission. We’d already made one. No. _I’d_ already made one.

<Just keep me updated, Sarge. I could get crushed here with one wrong move.>

He didn’t hang around. <Movin’ through the door now, boss! On your way to the Visser’s cell.>

<Jake,> I heard Jeanne speak. Her voice was still clear in my head, so she was close. <I am back by the storage and the waste disposal. I will stay here.>

<Okay, Jeanne. Stay put. I should be in the room soon. I’ll let you know when I demorph. It will be one-way communication at that point. Counting on you for help.> I replied.

<Second door closed behind you,> Santorelli pronounced. <Guards are comin’ up to the Visser’s door.>

The guard stopped again. It was a sign that we were by the door. On the other side would be the Visser. In a box, but there nonetheless.

<Door is open. The guards are enterin’.>

The clothing ruffled and shifted beneath me, and the world around quickly became darker as we entered our destination. I disengaged from the clothing, but did not flap my wings, entirely against the fly’s instincts. The fly’s instincts were too noisy.

I hit the ground, but my lightweight body simply bounced without damage. I turned back onto my legs and scuttled along till I found a wall.

I couldn’t see, but I knew that the Visser was just mere meters away. Maybe he would have the answers to what we were seeking, and it was up to me to get them out of him.

First though, I needed to demorph.


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 14**

<Looks like they’re about to leave, boss. The pen’s back in the pocket!>

<It’s about time,> I grumbled. <I’ve been fly for _way_ too long…>

<I don’t envy you.> Santorelli replied grimly.

The guards had been assessing the Visser’s kandrona cell for almost twenty minutes, making me wonder just how complicated a small box of water could possibly be. They could have been talking to him. Marco couldn’t tell.

I had found my way to the far corner of the room; the corner where the security camera lived. Pushed up against the angle where the two walls and floor joined, I was out of its sight, so I could demorph and do what I needed to do from there. It was just a case of waiting for the guards to leave the building.

<They’re leavin’!> Santorelli exclaimed.

<Good,> I replied. <Let me know when they’ve locked up the place.>

It took another five minutes of waiting. They messed around with the forms in the entranceway and made some phone calls. Nobody thought that the guard checks would be so thorough. I was very thankful that they also didn’t check for anybody in fly morph…

<Door’s locked, boss! You’re good to go.>

<Okay. Sarge, Jeanne, I’m counting on you here. I’m about to demorph, so I won’t be able to reply to you or request answers. Sarge, I want to know exactly what’s going on outside the building, if anybody decides to come for a visit. Jeanne, you found out what type of security camera is in here. Until Marco says that it’s stopped working, I want you to repeat the deactivation process to me for as long as it takes.>

They both responded positively. It was time to finally demorph.

<Here goes. Keep me updated.>

I started my controlled demorph, deciding to morph my eyes first so that I could close them. I didn’t want to see the rest of the change. Hopefully, Marco would be my eyes.

<Still looks clear.> Santorelli informed.

And Jeanne started. <The security camera will have a solid metal casing which may look impossible to get into, but just underneath the hood is a small metal button. It’s difficult to see, but you can feel it if you move your finger over it. Just make sure not to move your fingers directly in front of the lens.>

She continued, but I stopped paying attention for the moment. She would repeat herself shortly, and I wanted to fully demorph before starting. I turned my reforming head upwards and blinked to the static security camera that stood proudly above, its watchful eye covering the door, the Visser and most of the room. All but for the little corner I was growing into.

<Still clear.>

I stretched my Human fingers and straightened my Human spine against the wall. The camera was about a foot above my head. I was done, and I had to begin the difficult task. I recalled Jeanne’s first instruction and focused on a partial morph. I pictured the paws of a dog, the print-less pads. The tips of my fingers became tougher and less defined. I stopped the change there.

A small button just under the hood… The hood of the lens, no less. I would have to be incredibly careful. I backed right into the corner and lifted up my right arm, craning it over the top of the camera. I ran my fingers tightly under the lens hood, gritting my teeth in determination not to expose my skin.

<Still clear.> Santorelli repeated. Unless he wasn’t paying attention, that meant that Marco hadn’t seen my finger.

I found it! A tiny raised surface under the hood. I waited for Jeanne to go over the next step.

<… Make sure not to move your fingers directly in front of the lens. Press the button and pull the hood back to open the top of the camera. Try not to force it or shake the camera.>

I gave the button a push. It was much firmer than I initially expected. I took a deep breath, steadied myself and tried again.

<Be careful, boss,> Santorelli urged very shortly after. <Marco just saw the camera shake. Guard wasn’t lookin’. Still clear.>

I had gotten away with it. It meant that I needed to be even more careful, however, and I pulled the top back extra slowly, bringing the upper shell of the camera up and over. I gently placed it against the wall. The camera’s innards were exposed, but I couldn’t see them. I waited for the next line of instructions to come around again.

<Now you must locate the chipboard that controls the camera. It is placed at the rear of the shell. You must be very careful, as this camera has been built with an alarm system that will alert security if anything apart from the green wire is pulled.>

I reached my hand into the small camera body, finding it a difficult chore when the compact interior squeezed my fingers. I avoided shaking the camera, at least.

<There will be many wires attached to this chipboard. Remember, you must pull the green one first. If you remove any other, the security will be alerted to tampering.>

I moved a single finger down to the rear of the camera. I felt a cluster of wires.

<The green wire that you need to remove is two along and four up from the back-left of the chip. Remove it.>

It was a struggle. They were tightly packed inside the shell of the camera, and I had to do a bit of digging to make out the important details. Without shaking the camera or breaking anything. I wasn’t comfortable.

<Still clear.>

I found the chip board. Now I just had to find the right wire. Two along. Four up. I used my finger to count the wires, extra careful not to miss any. I repeated the action three times, and on each occasion landed on the same wire. I moved my thumb in with precision and pulled on the wire.

It came loose. Nothing happened, as far as I could tell. Everything was silent for a few seconds, but for Jeanne’s continued instructions.

<Still clear.>

No alarm had been set off. I was successful. Now there was one more wire to pull.

<With the green wire removed, no alarm will be activated on removing the other wires. You must now remove the wire that controls continuous recording. Doing that will cause the image to freeze. The wire is four along and three up from the back-left of the chip.>

I went over the process again, counting along the wires with maximum accuracy. After three consistent counts, I decided on my wire and pulled it loose from its soldering.

The reaction came pretty quickly, Santorelli passing on Marco’s message. <Marco thinks the camera is frozen. Video fuzz has stopped, barely noticeable. Can we make sure, boss? Guard isn’t lookin’ at your camera right now. Maybe swing a hand in front of the lens. If not seen in five seconds, we’ll assume that you can go ahead.>

I took the chance. I sliced my hand through the air, directly in front of the lens.

Five seconds passed. <I think you’re good to go, boss. Jeanne, no further need to relay instructions.>

<Good luck, Jake.> Jeanne said to me. I silently thanked her, and stepped out into the room. With the camera temporarily out of action, I was able to speak with the Visser uninterrupted.

I saw the Kandrona box. It was on a thick wooden desk against the far wall, a few files and papers either side, as well as some equipment for the box itself. The control panel was shiny and black, and it covered the entire top of the box and down over the lip of the front. Below that, the box was transparent, the murky brown liquid slowly filtering and churning within.

Something swam groggily through it, barely more than a shadow in the dingy water.

I stepped up to it and glanced over the controls. It was exactly how it was laid out on the images we had obtained. I knew how to open communications.

From my position standing right beside the box, I could only see the control panel. With curiosity, I bent my knees to look again into the thick liquid.

He was by the glass, facing me directly. The fin-like structures moved so gently to keep him as still as a statue in the ever-swirling water. He was watching me. No, _sensing_ me…

I stood up straight with a shuddering inhale and a shake of the head. I couldn’t get distracted by such images. I ran my fingers over the control panel, following the instructions that we had rehearsed to bring up communications.

The speaker cracked loudly, and then hummed, the slightest hint of a haunting static forever in the background.

“What is it now?”

My eyes closed with unwelcome dread. It had been so long since I had heard that dangerous, unstable snarl. It was as if they danger still lingered on him like a smell that refused to be washed away.

I opened up my end of the communications, bringing the microphone to life. With reluctance, I spoke into it. 

“I’m here for answers, Esplin 9466.”

“Well, you certainly sound familiar…”


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 15**

I avoided staring into the brown water. It was an innate fear. A fear of an action that would have no consequence other than to instil an image into my head. I didn’t want him to sense me, but I knew that he figure who I was from my voice alone. I couldn’t stare at the Yeerk slug in the box.

“Esplin 9466,” I said again, hiding any lack of confidence with the experience of disguise I had accumulated over the years. “I believe you might know something that we would like to know.”

The laugh that he gave back to me was bitter, not as proud as it once used to be. Mad as he was, being stuck in a tiny box with no influence on the world around him wasn’t going to go without influence. “You aren’t a guard. Who are you? Tell me now!”

Still the same quick-to-anger, blunt Visser as he had always been. Not even the box could change that. “Esplin 9466, I’m just here to ask you a few questions. I have been given express permission from the United States government to do so.”

“Oh, have you now?” He sneered.

“Yes, Esplin.”

My insistence on calling him by his real name was no accident. With each instance, his tone would drop, his audible pride would shrink. He became more real and much less frightening.

“Questions about what? What could you possibly ask me about that isn’t the inside of this infuriating box?!”

“We want to know of some experiences you may have had during the war, Esplin 9466.”

“Stop calling me that!” He barked.

I huffed. “What would you prefer to be called?”

He fell silent.

“Very well,” I said. “Nothing.”

“What is your name, since you’re so insistent on using mine?” He demanded bitterly.

“Strickland,” I responded without a moment’s hesitation. “Now, can we discuss what I came to discuss?”

“Why should I tell you anything?!” He argued.

“Why shouldn’t you?” I asked back.

“It doesn’t help me.”

“Nothing is going to help you. You have nothing to lose.”

He was clearly not enjoying himself. But neither was I. It was a truth that was pertinent at the time, but it felt so much like kicking a man - or Yeerk - when he was down. I didn’t like it, even if he more than likely deserved it.

<Still clear.>

“Well?” He grunted impatiently. “Get on with it! Ask me. Talking with you is torture enough already.”

“We want you to tell us about Kelbrid Space,” I explained. “We know that the Yeerks were a force across the _Gratt_ Border that separates the Kelbrids and the Andalites.”

“Kelbrid Space?” He muttered. “Strange how you would want to know about Kelbrid Space. Why would you ask me, of all Yeerks?”

“You once held a very high rank. We thought you would have some valuable knowledge.”

His laughter returned. “There were some higher ranked than I. Did the Andalite scum get rid of them? Why not ask _them_?”

“We asked them. Information was fuzzy,” I improvised. “Thought we’d ask you, too.”

To my annoyance, he fell momentarily quiet.

“Esplin, what do you know about the Kelbrids?”

“Yes, your voice _is_ very familiar…” He murmured.

“What do you know about th-”

“I know who you are!” He exclaimed. “The famous Jake Berenson. I recognise that dull, monotonous voice and that smug self-important tone!”

I had to hide my nerves and my identity. “My name is Andy Strickland, Esplin 9466.”

“You are a liar!” He growled back. “Jake! Jake, the Human who was a thorn in my side far longer than any pathetic Andalite had been! A _Human_!”

“You are wrong, Esplin!” I countered. “Quit the delusions and tell us what you know about the Kelbrids.”

“Why would the _hero_ Jake Berenson want to know about the Kelbrids…?” He pondered with a mocking sneer. “On behalf of the Andalites, too? How unusual. What’s going on here?”

“What do you know about the Kelbrids?” I insisted, refusing to be side-tracked. I rested both hands on the corner of his kandrona cell.

“I know some things. I don’t know other things. _Andy_.” He said, following with a laugh.

“Do I have to remind you,” I began, starting to lose my patience. “That we have full control of your kandrona cell? If you refuse to give us the answers that we require, we will be forced to make you.”

I hated myself for saying it, but he wasn’t cooperating. I had to make a threat.

“ _We_?” He scoffed. “I only hear Jake Berenson. Jake Berenson, the Yeerk murderer!”

My hands gripped the corners of the box tightly, and I clenched my teeth and my lips.

He continued, his voice growing in power with each purposeful stab. “How many? Seventeen-thousand in one go! Powerless, defenceless brethren of mine that you mercilessly flushed from the ship!”

“This is not Jake Berenson…” I seethed through my teeth.

“Others, too, I would assume!” He added. “You are nothing but a war criminal, Human! You are no better than I! Maybe they should stuff you in a cell just like mine!”

My right hand inched sideways, hovering over the control panel that dominated my field of vision. “Tell us about the Kelbrids, Esplin 9466.”

“I hope they all haunt your dreams for every night that you’re still breathing.”

I flashed, momentarily losing my reigns. “Nothing Jake Berenson could do would ever compare to the evils that you committed, Esplin 9466!”

“I beg to differ…” He replied with disturbing calmness.

“Tell me about the Kelbrids.” I ordered.

“No. Jake Berenson does not deserve answers.”

“You will tell me, Esplin, or I will make you. I don’t want to have to do it, but I will.”

He laughed, but this time with a deliberated restraint. “Of course you will. I don’t doubt that.”

I pushed a finger to the controls. I removed the default temperature limitations with increased breathing and a rushing mind. I rubbed a hand through my hair, brushing the sweat from my forehead into it.

<Still clear.>

“You’re nothing, Esplin 9466,” I growled, before grinning and shaking my head at the absurdity of being talked down to by such a lowly monster. “A pathetic worm inside a tiny box. Built by Andalites, too. How does it feel?”

“More comfortable than the cell you built for yourself.”

I was struggling, and I pulled myself away from the box with that realisation. I exhaled loudly and held my head back, giving me a momentary relief from the box and its revolting inhabitant. How could I be finding it so difficult?

How couldn’t I shake off the absurd comparison?

I arrived back to the cell. “Last chance, Esplin. What do you know about the Kelbrids?”

“Jake Berenson, the murderer…” He whispered.

I closed my eyes. Then I opened them as my fingers operated the buttons on the control panel. 176 degrees.

“What do you know about the Kelbrids, Esplin?”

<Still clear.>


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 16**

It was a few litres of water. Eight, maybe a couple more or less. With our Human technology, it could take a few minutes to heat it to near-boiling point.

With Andalite technology, it was achieved in seconds. The box buzzed hideously, and I felt the increase in temperature radiate into the control panel beneath my fingers.

“Ah…” The Yeerk grunted, the realisation of what was quickly happening bringing a shocked reaction, even if it came with no surprise. “Ah! You’d better not!”

It heated, and heated. His gasps of discomfort were becoming shouts of distress. I bent my knees and looked inside of the box. The Yeerk was huddled to the left side, reaching desperately for the top where the water did not reach.

“I can stop it,” I said. “If you just tell me what you know about the Kelbrids.”

176 degrees was achieved. The heat could be felt with my hands near the box, and no doubt it was becoming unbearable for him.

“Turn it down!” He screeched. “It’s too hot! I’ll die in here!”

I lowered the temperature by a mere thirty degrees to stop him from shouting. “Tell me about the Kelbrids.”

“You are nothing but a lowly, despicable Human!” He snapped, too embroiled in his anger to think of saying anything else. “A disgusting murderer!”

<Still clear.>

“Me?!” I exclaimed. “You would turn on your own without hesitation! You butchered your own soldiers and slaughtered your slaves like they were dirt on your slimy Yeerk fins! I’m not the murderer, Esplin 9466. You are!”

I raised it back to 176.

“Ah! Ahhh!” He groaned, his body writhing against the glass. I raised myself, unable to watch any further, but I kept my fingers locked to the controls.

“Tell me,” I reiterated. “And it will stop.”

After a couple more bellows, he answered, “I’ll tell! I’ll tell…”

I dropped the temperature back to normal, eager to hear what he had to say. His gasps of pain decreased with the heat, and he was silent for a little while after.

“What do you know?” I repeated, impatience returning.

His reply came with a mocking snarl. “I know that they’re going to wipe that smug look off your face! Ha! And when they’ve freed me, I’ll be there to finish you off! I’ll finish the job I’ve been planning for years!”

I smiled to myself, and I hoped that my voice conveyed it. “The Kelbrids will never rescue you. They can’t cross the border.”

“That’s what _you_ think!” He retorted, his laughter coming around again.

“Tell me what you know about them, Esplin!”

He continued to snigger. “They’ll free me. And I’ll kill you!”

My smile dissipated, but I still didn’t believe him. “How could they possibly free you?”

“I’ll kill you Jake Berenson! I’ll take control of that foolish Andalite scum once more and dice you into the tiniest little pieces that even the worms could swallow whole!”

He wasn’t cooperating. It was just a ruse. I needed to try harder…

200 degrees.

<Still clear.>

It was close to water boiling point, but the viscous brown liquid was made of different chemicals, and it still looked some way off boiling yet. However, that did not make too much difference to the inhabitant.

“No! Ahhh! Stop it!” He screamed, the sound more pained than before.

I could feel it. My fingers tensed, my teeth gritted and my eyes closed. I was burning him. I could almost hear the skin turning through the crackling speaker, and I could feel my own singe with it.

“Tell me, and I’ll stop!” I offered.

“Turn it down!” He screamed. “Turn it down!”

“Tell me!”

“Kelbrids...! Kelbrids…”

It was my cue to turn the temperature back down, to bring an end to the round. I breathed heavily and bowed my head. _For Ax_.

“Kelbrids what?” I asked.

He took a further moment to recover. When he spoke, his voice was weakened considerably. “They… We found them. We couldn’t take them.”

Couldn’t take them? My mind scrambled but then jumped to what seemed to be a solid conclusion. I pressed for clarification. “Why?”

“Their bodies are covered. Covered in… toxin. It killed us.”

“Why would they want to free you?” I requested, softening my voice to refrain from another threat.

“Because I am Visser One!” He screeched defiantly.

“Tell me why.” I commanded, trying to push by his feeble attempts to propel his own fragile ego.

“They will destroy the Andalites, and they’ll take you meddling Humans down with them!”

I felt like he was holding something, but giving me nothing besides the mockery. “What are they doing, Esplin?”

“That’s Visser to you, Jake Berenson, slaughterer of the innocent. You will beg for mercy on your knees.”

He just wouldn’t let up, with each moment that his ego outgrew his pain. I had to reverse it again.

240 degrees.

The water began to bubble. I could hear it coming from the box, but the noise was soon drowned out as the screams of the Yeerk became harsher and more unstable. They were broken screams, cracked by the lavishing of steaming water on fragile Yeerk skin.

“Just tell me, and it will stop, Esplin.”

I was on the verge of pleading him, hoping he could hear me over his own frantic, slurred screams of agony.

“Stop it! Turn it off, turn it off! I can’t- Ahh!”

“What are they doing, Esplin?!”

“War!” He screeched “War! They want war!”

I turned the temperature back down again. This time his recovery lasted much, much longer. I let him, pushing back my own impatience.

“War?” I spoke.

“You’re going to kill me, you fool!” He shrieked. His voice was stuttered, weakened beyond simple exhaustion.

“The Kelbrids want war?”

“War with the Andalites,” He spat. “We moved information.”

“What information?” I pressed.

“Plans. Strategies. Every weakness that they have. The Kelbrids know all about the Andalites…”

I was fed up of drifting around my biggest concern. I was getting answers, and it was time to get what I came for. “What is The One?”

“The One…” He spoke, almost a whisper. “I haven’t heard of such a thing!”

“You’re lying…” I muttered. “I know you’re lying to me.”

I started to change the temperature again, but he stopped me. “Okay! Okay, yes! I do know! I do!”

“What do you know?”

He was still in such pain, and it meant longs gaps between his responses. “The One is how they win. The One is like no technology the Andalites will ever come up with!”

“What is it and what does it do?”

“Minds and motors…” He uttered. “The minds of many and the motors of a machine built to conquer.”

“Stop being vague, Esplin!” I urged. “Tell me what it is or I will raise the temperature again!”

“You’re an evil, deplorable Human…” He snarled.

“Are you going to tell me?”

“It was created on _Kyritlyp_ with the intention… the intention to win a war.”

“A war with the Andalites.” I assumed.

“And they will win,” He coughed a laugh. “And I will be standing alongside them in victory.”

“Where do the minds come from?” I asked, ignoring his fantasies.

“They connect them to the machine. Brilliant minds, great fighters and skilled leaders!”

“Where are they kept?”

“The main base is on _Kyri_ -… I know why you’re here.”

“ _Kyritlyp_?!” I tried to confirm. I couldn’t let him drift.

But he forgot my questioning. “I know why you’re here, Jake Berenson! They took one of you, didn’t they?!”

“Don’t make me raise it again, Visser!”

He was laughing again, and I just couldn’t take it. I couldn’t stand his mockery, his self-aggrandising and his stupid delusions of rescue from his rightful cell.

“I hope it swallows you whole, Jake Berenson!”

260 degrees.

<You’d best start moving, boss!>


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 17**

<I repeat: Security Guard has noticed the inactive camera!>

What was I doing? I pulled and turned away from the kandrona box as the rabid bubbling of the liquid within echoed throughout the dark room.

I couldn’t. I began to morph fly, and this time I morphed my ears away first. I couldn’t handle the screaming, couldn’t bear to hear it. Was I really such a monster?

I looked back. In the glow of the box I saw the ferociously bubbling water, steam pouring from the vent at the back of the container and up to another tiny vent in the ceiling.

Inside, he had lost his grip. His body thrashed around the box, brought mostly by the torturous churning of the boiling Yeerk water. His screams, though invisible to my now ear-less body, were causing the lid of the container to vibrate.

It wasn’t me. I couldn’t do it. I wouldn’t let my anger result in the swiftly approaching conclusion. I reached forward even as my body shrank and slammed hard on the box’s main console button. I wouldn’t know if I had done it in time. What I _did_ know though, was that he would never be the same again.

<Guards are being alerted, boss! Time to morph and get out of there!>

I lost control of the order of my morph, so disgusted with myself and my jump to such a callous action. I had resisted for so long, but then in the end stumbled willingly towards it.

But I was still going fly, and soon my ability to speak had returned. <Can anybody hear me?!>

<Loud and clear, boss!>

<Yes, Jake.> Jeanne chirped.

I dragged my steadily changing body to the corner of the room that would be blocked off by the open door, out of sight of any guard that entered. <We got what we came for,> I told them. <Jeanne, are you still fly?>

<No, Jake,> She replied. <I am hawk now!>

<Good!> I exclaimed. Now I was barely a foot tall, though straining to keep my head clear to finish the morph. <That saves some time. Get out of the facility whenever you can, but stay within Tobias’ range.>

<Okay, Jake!>

<Sarge, I want Marco gone, too. Keep him in range.>

<No problem, boss,> He replied. Then, he asked, <How did you get it from him?>

<I…> I really didn’t want to tell him, but he was straight onto the conclusion once my hesitance was clear.

<Is he okay?>

<I don’t know.>

Santorelli fell silent, and I knew that his conflict was returning.

It wasn’t the time for moralising or questions, and when I heard nothing from him from a clear five seconds, I made a decision.

<Sarge, swap with Tobias,> I ordered. <Get up out of the way and bring Tobias down to watch over the facility. Do it now!>

<Why do->

<Do it now, Santorelli!> I barked. <No questions! Bring Tobias down and leave the facility! Keep in range!>

Dutifully, he obliged. <On it, boss.>

I could have been seconds away from being spotted, and I still hadn’t completed the morph. The prison security would be on instant lookout, especially upon seeing Esplin and that the camera had been tampered with.

<Jake!>

<Tobias!> I called out. <What’s it like out there?!>

<Four guards just entered the building, Jake,> He assessed. <Two doors to go, I’ll give you ten seconds before your door opens!>

Ten seconds. It was enough. I was barely a centimetre now, my fly eyes now appearing and becoming fully functional.

<Doors closed!> Tobias announced in alarm. <They’re closing the doors behind them!>

<Any other way out you can see?!>

A worrying pause. <No, not on this side. Give me a few seconds to circle. These guards have guns and they look pretty angry, so be careful in there.>

The light around me suddenly changed, and vibrations that had been quietly sneaking up in the background became a thunderous crash. The door ahead pushed towards me like an enormous wall, stopping a few inches from crushing me. The guards had arrived. The world became an orchestra of vibrations, and that was my cue to move.

I took off with my ecstatic wings and shot up along the edge of the door that hugged the frame, with the intention of passing back into the main hallway. Even if the other doors were closed, I could wait until a guard opened them, one by one, or I could perhaps find another escape route.

<Couple ventilation pipes, Jake.> Tobias informed. <You okay in there?>

<I’m fine. Is Marco out?>

I came to the top of the door, turning over the edge. I saw the brighter lights of the corridor on the other side. Just a few more inches and I could slip through.

A gust of wind! The door edge beneath me suddenly shifted, the currents throwing me away just as I was about to be crushed between the door and its frame!

The door had been closed!

<He’s almost out Jake. He should b->

<Tobias! I’m closed in!> I interrupted. <They closed the cell door! I’m trapped!>

<Isn’t there another way out?!>

I couldn’t see far enough to tell, and my mind was too muddled to recall. <I don’t know… I don’t think I’ll last in here with four guards!>

<Keep trying!> Tobias urged.

With my eyes I could see the shadows of the guards below me. I couldn’t stay in one spot, so I drifted towards the other corner of the room, closer to Esplin’s container. Hopefully, the guards would be making enough noise to drown out the buzzing of my body in flight.

But with a broken camera and a tampered kandrona cell, they probably had a very good reason for closing the door. They would also have a very good reason for searching out a tiny insect flying against the wall for an escape route.

I had no choice. I had to find a hiding spot. The possibilities were processed in my head and I came up with only a few.

I hit the corner of the room, near the ceiling. I would have to descend to reach the bulky wooden table.

The light changed. The fly panicked!

The air current and the fly’s quick insect reactions saved me just as the enormous hairy hand swiped by. I had been found!

I had to drop, speed downwards without hesitation and disappear under the table. How long I could stay clear when they knew of my presence, I couldn’t know.

Another hand swipe! It hit me, but with such a small body I merely bounced off and my wings propelled me clumsily to safety before I could be snatched within curling fingers.

Then the edge of the table arrived, and it couldn’t have come sooner as another hand threatened to slam down on me. I ducked under the edge, the light levels around me decreasing sharply. I dipped beneath the vertical plank that joined the legs and rose back up so that my wings scraped the table’s underside.

But I couldn’t stay for long. In seconds, four guards could be under there with me. I headed back towards the wall and landed against it.

There was a slight gap between the table and the wall that I was able to walk up through. I had gone for a specific reason, and I had guessed my distances to perfection.

I was directly behind the kandrona box. My vision was filled with the orange-brown eyesore and a couple cables stretching from the back of it and down under the table nearby.

I scuttled over and ducked beneath the clutch of cables, shielding myself from direct sight. It was probably the safest place to be while I planned my escape.

The temperature rose as I approached; the last remnants of the interrogation I had performed. A shadow drifted by within the kandrona cell before I hid entirely beneath the cables, its slight movement solely a consequence of the calming water.


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 18**

I couldn’t risk hanging around, because they would eventually find me. Hidden behind the steaming-hot kandrona cell would buy me some time, but I had to come up with something else.

<Marco’s out,> Tobias told me. <He’s… Yeah, he’s left the facility. Just me and you, Jake.>

<I’m hidden. I don’t know how long for, but I’m trying to think of a way out… Tobias?>

<Yeah, Jake?>

<The One is based on _Kyritlyp_. It’s a Kelbrid machine built for warfare.>

He seemed confused. <Huh? Kyruh…>

< _Kyritlyp_.> I reiterated.

<Jake, you’re getting out of there. Tell me this later!>

It was a precaution. I had been in far worse situations before, but the part of me that couldn’t escape reality was smart enough to pass on such vital information. I would try to balance it out with some optimism, but so often it blinded me to the stone-cold facts.

The table vibrated and then shuddered with a bang. In seconds, I would be found. I flicked my nimble little body and parked upside-down on the underside of the cluster of cables, just as I felt the box beginning to move.

The movement caused me to shift, unintentionally and instinctively jumping closer to the box. The temperature increased substantially, so close to the heated liquid within…

Wait, the steam!

<Tobias! I’m going to try for a vent! I know where I can find one!>

<Go for it, Jake,> He replied. <I’ll keep an eye out for you. More guards appearing out here, most of them heading for the Visser’s block.>

I had a path. It wasn’t going to be comfortable, but the heated steam would both provide me cover and guide my way directly to the small ventilation grill on the edge of the ceiling that I had spotted earlier.

The box jerked sideways as the guards feverishly attempted to spot me. I let go of the cables and circled around them, zipping directly up to find a thinning body of steam. It wasn’t hard to find.

No hand swipes right away, and I buzzed up into a cloud of steam that rose quickly towards the ceiling.

Pain in a fly body is difficult to explain… It’s certainly not like the pain of a vertebrate, but my body was definitely telling me that something was wrong. The steam enclosed me, and though it hid me enough while the guards fumbled around beneath and before me, I was half-tempted to risk flying back out into clear air. I was suffering.

But the path to the vent wasn’t far. With an agitated morph I found the slit openings in the ceiling. I tucked myself in, just as five chunky digits found me and tried to enclose my tiny body. They wouldn’t fit through the vent slits, but they would know where I was going. With that in mind, I had to hurry.

I ran the building layout through my head, and from that deducted the direction I needed to go in. After choosing my direction, everything became very dark, and it was up to chance that I could find the exit before the guards alerted any others where I was.

<I’m in the vent, Tobias! Heading westwards. Visser’s room is right at the end of the building, so I should come out near there!>

<I see the exit,> He replied. He seemed a bit further out. <Tell me when you see light. I’ll get a little closer to find you.>

<Guards around?>

<Yeah, but they aren’t by that side of the block yet. You have a minute. Less than.>

<It’s enough.>

I hoped it was. I could see nothing in the square tube I was travelling through. Much to our previous frustrations, the layout we had found didn’t display the vent and pipe systems of the newer buildings, but I felt confident that I was heading in a straight line for the left-most side of the facility, close to the wall that signalled freedom.

It went on for a while, and I was counting the seconds in my head, hoping to reach the end before the heat got to me.

<Still clear.>

Then I saw the light! It revealed itself to me up in the distance as a single circular beacon. I continued through the cramped, dark space, pulling it closer.

<Seconds!>

I breached the barrier, the bright light stunning my unfamiliar eyes.

Just as something swiped past me, threatening to block off my route! I rose up, higher and higher, out of their reach and the clutch of the depressing building.

<I’m out, Tobias!> I called to him, filled with relief.

<Yeah… Yeah, I can see you! You’re just where I thought you’d be. Keep heading in that direction. I’ll meet you on the other side of the wall.>

<Got it. Stay inconspicuous.>

<Seriously?>

Nobody was going to see me in the vast dawn sky that hung over the facility. Not in that tiny body. I continued in the same direction, riding the slight breeze higher than any normal fly would bother going. There was never dog poop up this high.

<I’m near the wall, Jake,> Tobias announced. <I think I can… Yeah, I can see something like a dot coming towards me.>

<Are you hidden?> I asked in return.

<Yeah. I’m hidden by a bush quite far from where you are. There’s a lot of noise coming from the prison, but nobody’s going to spot you.>

<It’s you that I’m worried about.> I grumbled.

<Don’t worry about me, Jake. I’m an expert at hiding.>

I continued on my path with Tobias guiding me. He didn’t want to get any closer as the prison’s security was going haywire. I pitied any unfortunate, innocent birds flying over that were bound to receive the consequences of heightened paranoia.

Our birds, however, were safe. The others were within range, but I sent them back to the RV. Their jobs were done.

I landed beside Tobias, and then jumped into a dense bush of his feathers. He complained of itchiness, but resisted the temptation to preen and flew me back.

I was looking forward to a good meal. But an Andalite was buying…


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter 19**

<Police are arriving. Place is a madhouse.>

<I’m just glad we’re up here.>

<I’d be happier if you weren’t so itchy.> He grumbled.

Maybe it would turn up in headline news. The Earth population certainly did not hold Esplin 9466 in high regard and would be interested to know that somebody had entered his cell and… did what they did. On the other hand, the Andalites would be displeased that somebody had gotten in so easily. They had always wanted to take full custody of him, but the American government got the rights to hold him, despite technically being an Andalite prisoner.

The big problem was that Earth prisons were not built to guard against people who could turn into birds and flies. Not yet, anyway. Maybe they would cover the incident up to save from embarrassment.

Something would be said. People would notice the prison’s panic. I was sure that some would suspect the truth.

To us, it didn’t matter. With Tobias escorting me back to the outskirts of the city, I decided to only look forward. We had gotten what we came for, and we could concentrate on our next step. Whatever that was.

Tobias finally came down to Earth after spending so long in the air, but he was desperate to get into the trees. I hopped out of his feathers, safe in the knowledge that we were in a secluded area, and began to demorph.

<Thanks, Tobias,> I said to him as I began to change. <It wasn’t too bad, was it?>

<Could have gone better. Could have gone worse,> He replied casually. <What happened with Sarge?>

I collected my thoughts, organising them into reason. <This wasn’t his mission. He’s a man of loyalty, and today I split it in half. He hesitated. A lot.>

<Ah. So that’s why you swapped us.>

<Yeah. That’s why. I thought it might be an issue before we went in, but I thought he could get through it okay. Then I… sorta implied what I did in there.>

Tired, I kept my morphing slow and steady. My wings were gone, my ears had returned and a mouth replaced the proboscis. Again, I was leaving my eyes till last.

<What happened in there?> Tobias asked with an indecipherable tone.

<He wouldn’t answer, at first.>

Tobias did not question further. He was silent again, and remained so as my morph came to an end. When my eyes returned and I looked up, he was nowhere to be seen.

I rubbed a hand to my forehead and let out a sigh. With the mission done, I had nothing left in my impatient mind but images. The churning, frothing water wouldn’t be erased.

“You knew what it would have come to, Tobias.” I whispered under my breath.

He had dropped me off just a block away from the RV. Not willing to be seen, I took a less direct route behind some buildings to get back, spotting the rusty old vehicle over a collection of dumpsters after the short walk. I jogged over, and the smell of a familiar restaurant filled my nostrils.

I knocked four times on the RV door. “It’s me.”

The door quickly opened with an ear-wrenching squeak. Menderash stepped up. “Prince Ja-!”

“Eddy!” I interrupted. “Good to see you! How was the game?”

I forced my way in and closed the door behind, collapsing back against it when I knew it was secure. The eyes of my compatriots acknowledged me and lingered.

“What game?” Menderash questioned with a frown.

“The _let’s get out of here_ game,” Marco answered for me from beside the RV sink. “Before the Kansas City cops crash our party.”

I nodded. “Yeah, I think we should start heading back, get out of the area as quick as possible.”

Santorelli stood up quickly from his chair beside the table and scrunched up his now empty takeaway bag. With a mouth full of food, he stated, “Got it, boss!”

He threw the paper bag to the side and made his way forward. Menderash walked in the opposite direction, squeezing past him to head back into the main living space of the RV. When Santorelli was about to pass, he gave a very deliberate look to me. He slowed as he passed, allowing me to give my own in return.

He understood. I could see that perfectly. We clasped hands firmly, and then he slapped me on the shoulder as he reached the driver’s seat. That was all that we both needed.

I followed Menderash back into the open living area and immediately found my own Burger King bag thrust against my chest. I shook my head with the slightest of grins and opened it up. I was very hungry, so I didn’t care what was put in front of me. I took Santorelli’s seat by the foldout table, just as the vehicle roared into life and our long journey back began.

Jeanne and Marco were exhausted. Marco wasted some mediocre chat up lines on her, gave up and fell asleep, while she sat back in front of the television. Maybe she fell asleep too. She was facing away from me. Tobias… who could tell?

Menderash had much more sleep than us the night before, and nor did he take part in the mission, so he had enough energy to instantly begin his analysis. He sat opposite to me at the table and gazed at me expectantly with ponderous eyes.

I said nothing to him at first, making it obvious that I wanted to finish my burger. I took my time, but Andalites were a little more patient than your average Human, and he waited it out.

I finished my food, and he was quick to pounce. “So how did it go?”

“Nobody told you?” I asked.

He shrugged. “They told me that you got something. I don’t know what that _something_ is yet.”

I pushed my bag aside and leaned forward in my seat. “Did you Andalites ever know _anything_ about contact between the Yeerks and the Kelbrids?”

He looked down to the table with a furrowed brow, then shook his head and stared back at me. “Nothing reached my ears. That’s not to say that information isn’t being withheld somewhere.”

“Esplin told me about contact during the years of the Yeerk Empire.” I explained.

“It wouldn’t be surprising.”

I continued. “The Yeerks tried to take the Kelbrids. But they couldn’t.”

Menderash looked puzzled. “Did he explain why?”

I nodded. “He mentioned a toxin. It killed the Yeerks.”

“So they couldn’t take the Kelbrids as hosts…” He concluded.

“No,” I agreed. “But Esplin was under the impression that the Kelbrids were going to rescue him from prison.”

Menderash seemed to back away, incredulous. “It sounds like the raving of someone driven to insanity by prolonged confinement. Can we believe anything that he says?”

I looked down. The pause could have been seen as contemplation, but it wasn’t. “I think we can.”

“So he thinks that the Kelbrids would be so forgiving that they would form an alliance with a race that just tried to enslave them?”

“They may form an alliance with a race that holds what they want…” I suggested.

“And did he mention what the Kelbrids wanted?”

“They want war,” I answered. “With the Andalites.”

Menderash’s analytical expression intensified. The new pieces of the puzzle were only bringing to attention the gaping holes around them. “War with us?! They would be foolish to even try!”

I leaned in further, lowering my voice but increasing its seriousness. “Your people would be even more foolish to shrug this off. _The One_ – that thing on the Blade Ship – is Kelbrid technology, and it was made for this war that they are so foolish for entering. And do you know what else he told me?”

Menderash looked sheepish now, even embarrassed. His head was turned to the side, deferent to the imagined pedestal he placed me on. “Tell me, Prince Jake.”

“The Kelbrids know about you. About your strategies, about your plans… The Yeerks were passing information about your people to the Kelbrids.”

He was clearly troubled. “My apologies, Prince Jake. I must look like an ignorant buffoon.”

“Esplin told me that The One was created on _Kyritlyp_. Does that sound familiar?”

He finally looked me in the eyes again. “No, Prince Jake. It doesn’t.”

I didn’t think he would. “We’ll have to found out where it is, soon enough. That’s where Ax is.”


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter 20**

We arrived back home in the comfort of the night. It was a strange atmosphere that we soaked in. After a successful mission, there was a certain optimism that threatened to become evident. But there was something holding it back. Nobody, apart from maybe Menderash, felt entirely pleased with how we got the result, for one reason or another.

It was a victory that almost felt like a defeat. For me, personally, it added just another ticked box on the list of things I felt I never wanted to do.

His screams were all I heard on the way back. The screams of a murderer were still just as desperate as those of the innocent.

I excused myself from the group when we finally got back to Santa Barbara, taking flight from the RV door and flapping my wings high into the night sky. We took diverging paths, and while they headed back to the mansion, I swerved my course towards my own home, where I could stay quietly alone for the night.

I crawled in through the opening in the roof and demorphed in the attic before heading downstairs. The lights were on, but the place was silent as ever.

In my study, nothing had changed. I didn’t turn on the television, nor did I power up the desktop computer. I went to an oft explored corner of the room where I had placed a drinks cabinet a couple years back. I twisted the tiny metal latch and pulled open the antique mahogany doors, the bottles previously shielded by glass then fully available.

I found a tumbler glass from the top shelf and placed it on the empty space below. Then my eyes searched the other shelves, judging the collection I had gathered. Jack called out to me, and I duly obliged.

I poured the brown liquid into my glass and swirled it, lifting it to my nose to sniff at the flavour.

_To success_ , I thought, showing it to the world. Then I gulped it back and shook away the strong taste.

It was comforting, just as the room around me was. A room that I had lived in for years and made my own. Busy, untidy and thoroughly disorganised. Just what I required.

Then came a crash from somewhere in the house! I halted my hand that was about to pour out some more whiskey and listened out for further noise. It sounded like the glass of a window, somewhere on the other side of the house.

A burglar? It seemed like the most probable reason. I put the bottle back down quietly in the cabinet and closed it, keeping perfectly silent. I heard another noise. A very subtle bang.

I approached the study door and peeked slowly around the corner. The faint noises remained, but I saw nobody. Whoever it was must have been further inside the house, so I left the study and walked cautiously towards the source of the disturbance.

My ears began to change shape, becoming more acute and accurate. Wolf ears were much more capable than my own. With them ready, I could pick out the sounds better.

Footsteps. It sounded like just one person. The steps were deliberate and cautious, just like my own. It was coming from my bedroom.

I kept my senses alert as I leaned up against the wall just beside the door. I could make out the noises of items being moved and drawers being opened. I started to become more wolf.

But I couldn’t. I couldn’t risk the world finding out. I reversed my whole morph and stood there thinking. What could I do?

I shifted my body to face the wall, and then very slowly moved my head to look past the door frame.

I saw the burglar. He had his back to me and was rummaging through my drawers. He wore a balaclava and a black leather coat. The collar around his neck was a bright red.

He wouldn’t notice me, especially with attention on the drawers. He was loading some meaninglessly expensive items into a backpack.

How he’d gotten in was a mystery, but that didn’t matter. He was there, and he was stealing from me. With his back turned, I had the perfect opportunity to ambush him. I could knock him out cold and drag him elsewhere. I could save my possessions and remain elusive.

I was about to strike, but I froze. The burglar opened the central drawer. He reached down, and from it he pulled up numerous gold medals. They shone in what little light the room had.

He dropped them into his backpack and dug into the drawers for more.

I retreated from my bedroom door and stood in silence. Then, I slowly walked away. I hid in my attic until I knew the burglar was gone, and then I took wing once again into the night sky.

I said goodbye to my home for the last time.


End file.
